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■ .• • \ 







Jo/n .. J^- ^^^^-^ 





/ - 




<~ w 







OF . 



fViih such ^ lively Matter^ as it is presumed mil amuse 

09 ^ell m inslru/^* 


'* T«ach me to feel another^t woe. 
To hide the fault I see j 
That mercy I to othera show* 
That mercy show to me/* > 




The priMiples we Imbibei and the Jiabio we eo&tfaet in our uxlj 
.years» ace net matten of imall momeiit» but of Uie utnioat conse* 
quence imaginable. Thcj not only give a transient .or rapeificial 
tinctaie to our first appearance in Itfey but most commonly stamp 
the form of our whole fatiue condoct, and e?en of our etewt 





' H'J I 

IT is not a scriQus preface^ to whigli I in- 
vite my young readers to devote five minutes 
of tUeir precious time ; I uiiderstand the g^-* 
neral qharacters of children: a prcf^ge i? a 
part of a booH, seldom perused by theni; 
and, I am almost gertarq, that the title of 
this little volume, will, to mapyj^ appear very 
dull. " A Fairy Tale," *' Amusing Stories,'' 
&c. &c. never fail to charm; and I have seen 
the eager eyes of many an amiable child, in- 
tent on the marvtUous part of a story, while 
the moral of it, if it- contained any, was 
wholly overlooked^ 

In order to make truths as pleasant as I 
can, permit me to tell my own story. 

I am an old woman, but not an oldwitch^ 
nor yet ^ foii^y \ yet, I will endeavour to 
prove to you, before I finish my book, that 

A 3 


I am a very comical old woman, and the 
many facts that I shall relatei will, I am 
persuaded, make some of you think that I 
have wonderful powers.^ Such secrtt infor- 
mation as I shall set forth, under the terms 
of " Nursery anecdotes/' " Parlour foibks," 
*' Garden mischiefs/' and " Hyde Park 
romps," will lead you to suppose, . that I pos- 
sess that wonderful cap of which you have 
all read, and am able to be in all places unseen. 
But, as I am determined not to deceive 
you, I must, like an honest old woman, re- 
peat,— my means are perfectly consistent with 
nature and truth. It is now twelve months 
since I was invited to eat my plumb-pudding 
with my grandchildren; I obeyed the sum* 
mons with much, delight, hoping to pass the 
Christmas season agreeably in their society. 
I was disappointed : I saw them all in health, 
and with every comfort around them; but 
their manners and dispositions were by no 
means suited to the happiness of their situa- 
tion. My spectacles^ which are remarkably 
clear, proved of great service to me on .this 
visit I had become an inmate of their 



house, to partake in the festivities of the 
holidays ; of course I did not feel at liberty ' 
to interrupt what they called their days of 
pleasure : but my reflections^ when I returned 
home, were given to the subjects of their 
errors and little contentions, and I resolved 
on committing my thoughts to paper. For 
this purpose, I imparted my intentions to a 
few friends, who have occasionally helped me 
with information from various families. One 
lady suggested, that if I would permit the 
epistles of children to be inserted, it would 
greatly assist my plan, * I complied^ and ac- 
cordingly, many letters from young persons 
df both sexes will be found in this volume 
I ani yet in doubt how my book will sue 
ceedj and have, therefore> received a// papers 
through the hands of my friendly agents, ad-^ 
dressed to ^^ Mrs. Argus,'' the name by 
which I choose to he known^ 

It will be highly gratifying to me, if they 
should prove 'as interesting to my young 
readers, as they were to me. I can assure 
them, I have smiled ^lm2CiSiy that will be found 
in these pages ; have shed tears over a fem,^ 

• • • 



a|idj^ t^pugh I hftve beei^ force4 |:p rpect oa^ 
or two r^thisr intrusiiQe epistk^, I yet bqpe I 
haye ret£(ii^4^uffiqiept ^latter/to epg^ge th^ 
attentip^ of a li|jeral j|^w?^ P^blip, to whQm 
I beg to subsc|'i^)e myself, . 


tbeir sincere friend 

and weUr wisher, . 





Contuning an introduction to some characters, w&o will 
make; a considerable figure in our history* ••••#•• p. l 

On the bappine ss resulting from brotherly love •«•••• 11 


iLn adventure and a fracas^ which all young gentlemen of 
real courage will readily comprehend •••••»•#•• S6 


Hints to young ladies who have nursery-maids, with a short 
account of Mr. Testy's grievances •••••••••••• 4S 

^ This Chapter hat beep csOcd Fiebtory Chancer by.Bii8take» 
wd was not discevcfid till too late inr conrcctioa. 



A disappointment ) in which a few discerning readers may^ 
see th^r own likeness ••••••.••••.•••••...•. 53 

CHA|». y. 

The danger «f prejudices, with a description of some of the 
ways in which lessons are sometimes said •••••• 66 


First going to school ; a caution to cowards; and a col. 
lation prepare^ for t^o^ie yho dbu9^ ^ f f>f^ke of it SI 


/ - ■ - - 

A poney*race ; the philosophers alarmed ; with a portrait 
after nature .••••••••!.•••..•* ••••tr 94 


How a story ought to begin in order to please some 
t«ade» ; and lyhy it should not be made merely amus* 
ing; wilh a- short digressipn in ^ivoar of French Ushers; 
&c. &c. .•....•••••••••••••••••••••♦•••••• llS 



Chiim8;»a few 4eHt»9' which denote ii^yprovement ; a whtm« 
sical bill addressed to the philosophers ; and ,a juvenile 
«pnerpfcrty'.*'.-***^^i»'**»---**-'---*»'** 1»^ 

•QITTBNTt. \l 


A^ further deavcriptioQ of letsoiulearning, mnd how to ob« 
▼iate the wont methods •••••• «•«•••••••••••• 15% 


Juvenile pedestrians ; the only real uses of dancing ; and a 
portrait which is worthy of being copied •••••••• l6^ 


Cn which a variety of opinions are started, as to the^p. 
pearance, manner, &c. of the Spectator ; a new charac- 
ter introduced, and an old friend takes leave »••• 183 

CHAP. xni. 

An arrival ; an unexpected discovery ; a little arrange. 
ment, and another sketch from real life, which needs 
no recommendation •••••••••••.•••••• I99 

CHAP. xiy. 

In which an explanation of much promise is made in fa. 
vour' of an amiable boy, and the Juvenile Spectator 
takes leave of her readers •.*••«.••••••••«#.•• 211 





A Consultation* 

Mrs. Bently, who is my most intimate friend, 
and a lyomaa whose judgment I reverence, was of 
opinion, that it. was highly necessary she should 
announce me as a watchful observer of children. 
^^ T^ugh unknown^ I can transact a gr^t part of 
your business,", sa,id my excelleiit firiend, '^ and the 
children, when convinced that you are not an imagin* 
ary being, will be more sedulous and guarded in their . 
conduct.** I readily assented to her proposal, the fe-» 
suit of which has more than answered ipy expecta* 
tion; for my grandchildren, whose happiness I am 
most anxious to promote, are amongst my correspond 
dents, i.have no doubt that many of my youQg 
readers could testify to the tendernesses and' indul- 
gencies bestowed upon them by their grandmothers; 
I believe, nay I amass'ured, that I* love mine most sin* 


cercly 5 but^ as I wish theni to be esteemed by every 
body, and know that theywill not always remain un- 
der the eye of their parents, — that they will mix in the 
world, where a variety of characters and dispositions 
"Will contend for what each considers his right: I would 
wish them to cast aside ail frowardness of temper, that 
selfishness which the fond circle called home\ is often 
ill calculated to suppress. 

A quarrel in a nursery, decided only by ao indul- 
gent and too partial nurse, wiH be no precedent for 
what the same child shall meet in a^ school. J* Sugar- 
plumbs^' and " kisses'' are not the plaisters for a fall, 
or a rough blow among school-boys; they meeti 
upon equal terms. And though 1 wowld not infer that 
happiness is not to be expected in schools as in other 
places, yet I am desirous of impressing on the mind's 
of sensible children, that life, even from infancy, is 
subject to rebuffs, and that in, fkct these oppositions 
are highly, serviceable to them. Which of you, but 
mpon reflecjtion, can remember to have heard your pa- 
rents express some disappointment, some regret? And 
what are you that you should expect to pass through 
life exempt from them ? , 

*^ To bear and forbear' is the July of every person^ 
whether young or old; but as I shall have occasion to 
speak at large on this subject, I will drop it for the 

Mrs. Bently, in a very pleasant 'letter addressed to 
me some months since, expressed herself very san- 
guine in the ^ood to be effected by my plan. 


^<.I hsve beeiffihestly arnmsed^'^ dear Bellas" sard 
the; ^' all the litik tolks wkh who^r I liavb spoken 
oa the subject' of the ^ Juvenile Speetator^* are cu* 
ribus to ktiow ^ What &on of perabn you^are ?'' * Whe^*- 
tber 7011 aar really ant old woman V .< Whew y«tf 
live?' * If you walk the Park ?' ' What dress you* 
wetir r &e. ito. ^11 ,which inqniiries I ana uinfonnly si« 
leiH^ osdy j^komisr^g ^o ^aiiamit^any letter or note top 
Mrs» Ad'gus^ v^fajeb they didoise to entrust t<> nty^ 
care.- I was present," continued my friend, ** at a 
consultation in one family which aqnused me very 
much, Charles Osborn declared, that he knew Mrs. 
Argus: * It is' tHeold woman in the red cloak, who 
walked iround the Serpentine l^fst Thursday; don't 
yotr liehlember, €Hurlotte^ she lo6ked very cunningly 
ajt us» and told me that I wasf a tbougbtless boy 
to wiaik so' n^ffr the water :* Charfottfe looked very 
wi§^, yet sbmewbat ashamed. , < I hope' sAii is not 
th'^ l^eetator,' replied Charlotte Osbom, ^ foi» I re- 
meftVti'eV t Taughfed at her, and said' you' were big 
enpilgh to take care of ydurself.'* ^fWill slare at 
every plcV woinjan I meet,' said Charles, * and if I 
see the 'same per sdn again, 1 will take oft tny hat and 
say, ^iiow do you do Mrs. Argus'?* I warned 
them not to raakfr am attempt so rude,** continued 
Mrs.-BentlyW'* and aft^ awakening their cnriosiiy, 
and impressing them with respect for your character, 
took my leave. The next morning T received a letter 
from Charles Osborn, which I forward to you j yovr 

B 2 



own discernment will lead yen to a just.understandmg 
of his "disposition from the little I have said.'. I am a 
stranger to the t;ontents of his addrfess^ and am dow^ 
as. ;I shall continue to be, only my dear Arsrbdla'^ 
agent in this her kind interest for the rising genera^ 

tjpn/' ■'.::' ''::•-- -■•• . •••-.: - •■^„, . 

I own toyouj my little friends, that il .was rather 
QUrious: to peruse this my first appeal/ imirierimy newl 
title of Spectator. I broke the seal*^ ^nd read as 

• . ■ . ' . • • < . 

To Mrs, Ar<3us. 

A friend of my Mammals says^ tbaj you are very 
clever at finding out the faults of children^ .pray telj 
me mine) for^ if you are ais cunfiing as sjie says you af e, 
I need not mention them to you, , ' 

I am certain I know you; dprft you walk in the 
Park sometimes ? I am sure^you xlo jthough, jin^l you 
, have a ver^.long nose : my sister Charlotte and I re- 
marked it ; you know when I mean, so.yoij need pot 
deny it. Mrs. Bently says ygu are very gopd-natured ; 
do you ever make presents to the, children you like? 
Charlotte and J hop^ you will answer this directly, for 
we are in a great hurry to be satisfied about you. - . 

^' ; . . ' Yonr's, 


I laid this letter on my writmg ta^ble, and was mus- 
ing on its contents, when my servant delivered a very 

JPVBNIX^E sp£x:tatoii. 4 


neatly, fpldodadte,. ^iiich I immediately Unclosed. It 

' '■ To Mrs. Argus. 


A lady^ who is my godmother^ assunes me th^t 
you are very fond ot children, and will give your a(^- 
vice to all such as address you on the subject* I hay;e 
many questions to ask of yoii, but do not know how 
to begin ; and, as I am twelve years of age, am afraid 
you should think mb very childish in my inquiries* If ' 
you would be so good as to say what I mai/ ask. I shall 
be much^bljged Till then-, I remain^ 

'■■V 'i .f;. ; -Madam, 

• - ' Your obedient Servant, 

. . Sophia Wilmot. 

. .Tbeinodes^ty.aud propriety of Miss Wilmot's note 
^plaimed xfiy inm^ediate notice. * I took my pen^ anjd 
^addr^^sedythe following in reply: 

Mrs. Argus will be happy to receive Miss Wilmot*8 

•» • ' • * ' • 

-communicaiions on any subject which she shall think 
fit to coihmluhicate. To a young lady who expresses 
herself with so much becotning tinllidity, Mrs. ArgiVs 
wiH h^e great pleasure in offering her advicp j nor is 
• it 'necessary tirat^he should add, that the age of Mi$s 
•Wilmot' '&6ts ^Qt place htr dbmie childliood ; assucft, 
this? irife[irir!€«l which she hesitates to think pfbper, be- 
cause childish,' iire perhaps the more essential to be 



;V)ade } «8 at ail ages^ loise-of iaqnipy :leskd§ 4o wisdom ) 
and a habit of thinking correctly is only to be -derlt^ 
from forming our opinions on those principles which 
experience^bas sanctioned. Mrs. Argus'wjll np,t think 
any question too trivial which shall help to esjta^lidh 
the happiness of a young laxly, whose welUwrittea 
yiote^ has impressed her with the iQOSt favourable 
opinion of the juvenile writer, 

I-soon discovered that my bharacter of Spectator 
^was generally known, and rejoiced that my person 
was screened from notice. For on going to my daugh-* 
ter's on^ morning, I was compeUed to smile internally, 
such a scene met my view ; but I will describe it for 
the amusement of my readers. My four grandchild- 
ren were seated at afarge book-table, each scribbling 
according to their abilities. *' I cannot kiss you just 
i^ow, grandmamma,** said Lucy, '* for I am writing to 
such a funny old woman about my wax dofl. Harriet 
.wants J^ to let her nurse it sometimes, but I am de- 
tefmini^d sb^ shall rtoii $o I $ball ask Mrs* Argus if I 
h^ve not a right to do what I please with my own doll." 
I was ,0B the point pf replying, when Harriet wer- 
turned the ink -stand, which unfortupately defaced 
the half, finished epistle of Willjanii who, enraged ?t 
the accident, turned in great anger to his sister, and 
in reaphing his band to give her a slight phaatise^eqt, 
. threw bis eld^r sister^ who was sitting ofn one comer of 


a chair, on the flTOr : in « fnoment all wad conFufiioq \ 
my daughter, whose ^K^eefk 'Staffte of health, mak«6 b^r 
incapable of Hbat exertion «o reqwsite in a young fa- 
mily, was so alarmed fcy Fannj^s accident, Jte to be 
near fainting, I united wi<!h WiHia«i in -quieting hef 
fears, and a small piA:e. of gold-beater's skin bi4ng 
applied to-Fauny*s wounded ttbow, tranquillity was in 
m few wwntttes restored. The interference, which^ 
at any other period, I should have considered neces* 
aary, would now have |>rdved superfluous, as i pur- 
posed to reprove ihem under «iy fictitious character. 
Drawing their attention, therefore, to the blotted letter, 
1 simply asked, ** if they did not tncan to prosecute their 
intention, and write to the Spectator T* 'William, 
^h<K is an intelligent and dever hoy, but rather 
tiioughtless, instantly toolc another sheet of paperr, i!e« 
claring he would tell the old woman the c;tact state of 
things, ^^ that he had begun a letter to her, which was 
interrupted by the carelessness of Harriet." '^ Do not 
omit to name Fanny^s custom of sitting on the. 
cornerof her chair ;'• saidl, " nor yet your brotherly 
attempt to strike your sister.'* *^ Must I do aB this,'** 
eaid he, pausing. ** Certainly, my dear," I replied, '•foi' 
as I suppose, you mean to ask the advice of this invi- 
sible old woman, it is impossible she can reply to yoU;^ 
unless you state facts exactly as they occur.** " Then 
we will all join in the same letter,** aaid Fanny, ** and 
each of us speak of ourselves.*' Thia proposal meeting 


geileral assent, they- proceeded with their epistle, and 

. I entered into conversation with my daughter. 
' It had long been my wish that William should be 
sent to a public school ; his mother had resisted my 

>^ importunities, not equal to the idea of a second seps^- 
ration fronj her family ; for I should apprize my rea- 
ders, that Captain Mordaunt, my son-in-law, had at- 
tended his wife to the Continent, her health requiring 

. a sput^iern clime. They were absent nearly three 
years, in which time the children had been under the 
care of the captain's mother, who, from a mistaken 
tenderness to her grandcliildren, had indulged them 
to an excess of wcaicness. William, .whom she al- 
ways pronounced a hero, was warm-hearted but self- 
willed. Fanny, gentle and affectionate, yet so inat- 
tentive as to appear indifferent to the wishes of her 
friends, Harriet, a lively little romp, always doing 
mischief from mere thoughtlessness. Lucy, a pet, 
with a strong inclination to selfishness. My own re*, 
tired way of life, whicb until the return of Mrs. Mor- 
daunt, had been uniformly passed in the country, 

• made me an almost stranger to my grandchildren. I 
would willingly have received them into my care 
during the abseace of their parents, but the captain's 
mother would not be refused \ and being unwilling to 
interfere in a^ domestic arrangement, I yielded my 
right. I bad good reasons for supposing that my 
daughter would have determined otherwise, but Cap- 
tain Mordaunt was fondly attached to his mother, and 


-hAd, besides, a strong prejudice in favour of' th€ ad- 
vantages of a metropolitan education. The children, 
liowevef, had had little done for them in point of 
learning. Masters an* instructresses innumerable 
had -been engaged' to attend thdn daily, but from 
their mstxuctiona, however well quahiied to teach, it 
Was impossible they, could derive much, as a sight al- 
Avay&^ superseded a lesson, the teachers often being 
dismissed, because the fatigue of an evering passed 
^t tSddler^ Wells, rmade: the young votaries of pleasure 
i»eapstble*df 5^t(</y oh the ensuing day. Thus, an ini<> 
ti^nse sum of money had been expended to very littk 
advantage. v > 

The death of okl Mrs.- Mordaunt which happened 
timmediately after my daughter's arrival, consigned the 
^hlMren to their disappointed mother. I had hasttoecjl 
to 'Lotid6'n to meet them en/amille, and too soon per- 
ifc^lved that their parents must experience much un- 
•leasiness before^the etfects of their vmlimited indulgen- 
cies could be eradicated. I could not conform to the 
noise and continued dissentions of these little squab- 
blers, ^and, thcrefofe^ provided myself with a small 
hbosecMliguous to their dw^llmg. Even the few week's 
which they termed holidkya, be<:ausethe masters were 
discoQtinuedy were, as I have before, related,- s^ un- 
pleasant to me as to cause me much uneasiness ; and I 
had no sooner retired to my own peaceful dwelling, 
than my present plan of*' Juvenile Spectator,*' occurred 
to me. After this, my family" introduction, I presume 



my yottx^ Feaders will follow me tbcougb t^y jui^jsl*^ 
ImfiouB subjects wUh mpt/^ interest. 

It really ^equirecl 9oq^e sdf-cpqimand on my part, 
when, after an hour spent i^ the composition of this 
letter by soreral Mands, I; heard the fpo^ap de^* 
pir^4 IQ g<> fco Mrs* Biently's with it, and beg th^l 
she would ^end it as soon as possible^ It would 
be impossible to describe all the varieties of di^ppsitioa 
Ih^ werj3 displayed during its coinpositipi). Fanny 
thought William said top nftupb^ and would not 
leave room for h^ > yet, when it was presented for her 
^cidi^tion, she seepfied NvhoUy at ^ loss what to say, 4»^ 
daring that she did not know how to begin ^ sh^ 
wished her mamma or^grandpfiamma woul|| just tell her 
the first sentence. Harriet wished her turn was CQ[n^ 
for she had a great niany thoughts in her heftd just a^ 
tb£^ mpinent ; while Lucy said, she did not want a 
subject, as H^riet was always wanting h^ribip^s, a9$l 
she was sure ^lie Spectatof w<Kdd agree with her* that 
/* every bpdy fxught tp b^ qontented witb.lbcir own.r. 

As I ent^r^ my p^rlpiir, afMjr ^ d^i^sooEie fatigue 
and many regretSj, I perceivt^d two or three juyenite 
epistles, waiting my arrifyal j their ^oalfats m^st make 
th^ subject pf a n^w Chapter. . 

( " ) 


* For he diat lortth not his brother, whom he hath seen, how can he 
loipe God, whom he hath not sees ? ~ And this cMnmaadment hsYc 
w«' from hiat^ that he who l*iKth Ood, Wvctb hit hrother also.' 


Next morning at breakfast lentered on my voluntary 
office of " Spectator." Though I could partly guess 
the purpart of William Mordaunt's address, afTectioti 
prompted me to read his letter first : I will transcribe 
it faithfully. 

To Mrs. Argus. 

I hear that you know Mrs. Bcntly ; she i« a yery 
nice lady, and we, (that is, myself and my sisters) are 
very fond of hcrj yet she is rather particular, but 
then, she tells us very pleasant stories, which I believe' 
she makes out of her own head, for they always make 
some of us blush, bei;ause . they explain our faults. 
She told us the other day^ that you would give us di* 


... » <■ / ^ ■ . ' 

tections how to be good and happy, and I suppose 
you know that all children have faults. Pray what 
ought I to 4o ? I am often very passionate and I cannot 
help it, for my sisters are so provoking. What 
ought I to do? I reallylove them very niuch, but 
just now Harriet turned the ink-stand over a letter I 
had almost finished, and meant to send to you. I was . 
going to give her a thump of the head, and by acci- 
dent threw Fanny off her seat ; but, to be sure, she 
. was only sitting upon the comer of her chair, and I 
was sorry afterwards, as it alarmed mamma, who is nol: 
,well. Give me some directions, if you please, ma'am, 
and I shall be much obliged to you. I ratist leave-off 
now, as Fanny wishes to say a few words to you. - 

; William Mordaunt. , 

I am so stupid at writing letters, that I am afraid 
you will not have patience with me, madam. William 
has said enough to let you know that we do not agree 
so well as we ought. I have a habit of sitting on the 
corner of my chair, and though I am often told it is 
wrong, I always forget what is said. Yet, I can assure 
you, I love my inamma dearly, but grandmamma Mor- 

- daunt never used to notice it, so \ did not know it was 
w.rong. How shall I break myself of this custom. I 
am very desirous of pleasing my mamma : be so good 
as to t?ll me how I shall begin to correct this fault. I 
have many others, I believe, but this happened to 

^ frighten my mamma, who thought I was hurt by mjfs 


fall, iand it harcOnvinded ine that I ought U) strive to 

get rid of it. : ■ ■ 



Pray, madam, is there any harm in being a romp. 
I hope not, for I am such a giddy little thing, that J 
am always in mischief; the worst of it Is, I am f^^r 
ever getting. tasks from my masters, and the governess 
who comes to hear us read, for I never have my lessons 
ready ; so they give me more to do, though I have not 
time to team what fhey set me. 1 used to get pff with 
my other masters when grandmamma Mprdaunt 'ws^s 
alive, for she said I looked so pretty when I laughed, 
that it was worth a thousand lessons. But now, it is 
quite a-difFerent case : my mamma is not pleased if I 
don't please my teachers, and. ^hey are, cfos:? ; end 
grandmamma Harley always looks so disappointed when 
I cannot give a good account pi- myself, that I am 
quite ashamed to meet her. -She* is such a nice old 
lady, and 30 wise, she can always tell by my looks ,if 
I have done well, that I should like toplease her al- 
most as well as n>amma ; but L really don't know how 
to begin, and I hope , you, will not say that I ,mu^t 
give up play, foj; that is impossible ; however, I will 

be sure to mind whajt yo.u say — good bye. 

Harriet JMoRDAUNT. 

None of; them will let me see what they have writ- 
ten to you. Ma'am. I dare say it is all about me, but 
I don't care, for, as nurse Jenkins says — ^^ one story 

14 JUVCKfLfi SP£€TAT01l« 


is good till another is told." But Miss Harriet did 
. not tell you that she is always undressing my doll^ 
though it is my very o^n. She knows she broke hers 
the second day after she got it ; and because she has 
given away all her pocket-money she wants me to fet 
her have mine to give away too ; but that I shall not 
A)^ for I have rubbed mine till they are so bright, they 
are quite like a looking glass, and I mean to keep up all 
I get till I am a woman, and then I shall be quite rich. 
Pt^y have not I a right to do as I please with my own 
things ? I am sure you will say yes, and I hope you 
will write to us soon. I have nothing more to say at 

Lucy Mobdaunt. 

Had I been a stranger to my young correspondents,, 
the preceding letters wouW fully have explained their 
dispositions, and I owned a very great degree of sa- 
tisfaction in perceiving that their method of expressing 
themselves was so natural. There was evidently 
much to be done away, much improvement required, 
before they ceuld either be a comfort to their parents 
or happy in themselves. For it is an invariable truths 
** that to be good is to be happy.** As my readers are 
acq'uainted with my consanguinity to these htlle folks, 
they will not vvonder that their's was the first letter tQ 
which I replied this morning* ^ • ' ^ 

*fo Master William Mordaunt. 

I lose no'timie in answering your ingenuous epistle^ 
1 should consider myself very culpable indeed if I suf- 
fered a day to elapse ^ithoul writing to you^ and this,' 
simply from one word in ypur letter : you avow your- 
aelf passionate. It is a most dreadful and degrading 
trait of char^icter^— dreadful^ becau9e in one moment 
of passion we may forfeit the peace of our future days, 
and make ourselves unworthy 9f the protecting care 
of heaven: degrading, because passionate people ar^. 
obliged to ma^^ concessions of the most humiliating 
sort. All human creatures are liable to err^ and to 
confess our regret for a fault is at once noble, and 
must disarm the anger of those wlpom we have o^njd<^ 
ed. But in cases of passion we have assumed a right 
inconsistent ^ith our place in society* We ar^rnot 
to avenge even what we consider a wrong, much less 
become aggressors^ I presume, that all those with 
whom I shair have the hpnour to correspoad under the 
title of ^ Spectator/' ha^'C made some advances in the 
b.est of all bistories, ^' sacred history.*' As such let 
them reflect on th^ Son of God : his sufferings,, the 
indignities to which he was subject^ ownii^g in him- 
self aU the virtue and purity of. a s^int, he submitted 
^o insult, cruelty and pain: yet he^ though reviled, 
*' reviled not again." . Reflectibn, that noble distinc- 
tion between the human and animal creation, was be*. 
st6wed upon us to-be exercised* If you consider 



yourself offended, avow the same; let ybur language 
be moderate, and the time which your explanation 
will necessarily require,, will subdue this unfortunate 
propensity, which is, in ftet, a temporary madness. 

That incident, t6 which your letter refers, appears 
Irivial ; but, hkd your sister fallen against a table, or 
any other piece of furniture having sharp corners, it 
might have occaBioned instant death. You have no 
Tight to ch^^tise the faults of your sifeters. Represent 
Svh^t-yaU'feeI'td'be<itferisiv€ to* you; aticl.even this 
sfehfould be done with tenderhe^* Yoiiai-e ojP a sex 
horn b protect fanlafesV atid, as I doufet riot that you 
wish to be thought Twaw/jr, I must beg to* tell you, 
ihere cannot be' aiiy\hing less Xikt coui^age than aii 
act of thiis-sort. T hope you will consider this in a 
just point of view, ind continue to give me your free 
communications. You may observe, that I address 
you ^as a boy of sense, and the heaa of a ypung family. 
You say, your mother was alarmed by ybur disagree- 
ment> let this likewise have its weight/ Your remark, 
that " all. children have faults," is in part just, per- 
haps ; yet I hope, and' irideed I hayejhe pleasure to 
know some, who are very dutiful in evfery respect. 
• I will trouble you toacquaint your sisters, that I 
•will iinswer their questions by tb-morl-ow*s post, hav- 
ing two:or three pmr favors, to which I.must reply, 

I remain, 

Your sincere Friend, . .,, , . 


I dispatched this letter with ftll possible haste, and 
the hand-writing, or rather the scrawU of Master Oa- 
born, catching my eye, I felt it indispensible to give 
him a few lines. I took my pen, and wroteas fol- 
lows : 

To Master^OsBORN. 


In my assumed character of ** Spectator,' ' I must 
necessarily receive all letters addressed to me; this 
avowal is by no means an acknowledgment that I 
shall answer all of them. Yours* happened to be the 
jirsi epistle, and it is on this account I devote a little 
time to you. , •; 

' I pretend to no particular cunnings the tern) is in- 
elegant and .offensive to me; I have no pers<mai 
knowledge of you, or your sister Charlotte, nor am I 
conscious that my iMse is remarkable in* any way. 
With respect to presents, I haye never considered that 
good children require. rewards; the pleasure of doing 
our duty, in 'any situation, j^nd at all periods of ouf 
lives, conveys more real delight, to the heart, than all 
the treasures of the East could bestow : and excuse 
me, sir, when I add,' that the manner and style of 
your letter would not, (if I had ever purposed to dis- 
pense rewards,) entitle you to such a distinction, i 
nxentit)n this to you with candour ; npr dp I wish 19 
repress your inquiries, if, after this, you feel dispose^ 
.to make any. On the contraj'y, you .vvill ri^e in my 



I < 

opinion if you mske tUe attempt. ^ I have taken some 
-time to coflisklfir jt]iQf letter before I replied to it, and 
must ingenuously confess^ that I have written to many 
of my young friends previoift^ly to my answering 
yours*, and this, merely to prove to ybu that I do noi 
attend to peremptory commands* Yet I am i/oiir 
sincere friend^ and the friend of all children* 

Arabella Arous. 

My young readers wHI observe, that in addre9&ing 
Charles OsbojH' I was careful to treat him with a eer^ 
iuin respect 5 1 was induced to this from tny stroiig 
drsapprobalion of At^very familiar and bold mantier. 
It is a general fault in youthv and indeed in more ma- 
ture age, to cast aside deconmiy when they melm to 
be clever, witty, &c. These qualities are, in them- 
selves, very unessential, if aot detrimental tp their 
possessors; and unfortunately, many persons esteem 
^bemsdves^'brilliant in these points, who are in fact 
wholly destitute of such talents. But, as I am speak- 
ing of children, 1 «^iHot forbear observing, that 
it has often given me Bincere concern when I have 
heard the smart answers, and wise sayings of children, 
related in their presence 5 it is a most injudicious 
mode of shewmg our affection; av love of praise is a 
feeling predominant in the infant mind, and it is part 
of a parent's duly to bestow it, but it must, be adini« 
TH^tered with caution, jnot iavished on slight occa- 
sions : the cbil4 ^ho conquers a bad habit^^ t>r con- 


i^s$e$, ^ moTfl shojuld ineet all the encoio^^gemetit 
which the just exercise of their reason demaoda. 
Bntp ;ivt)ere an act^ the stp»ple e^iect of th%t|i&c« 
tion which should ever bind us to ou^^kindrcd^ — where 
we hitve behqld the mere yielding of one to the tsom- 
fart of anatk^r^ I can see no reason in such a case for 
exalting the deed,. Copviace them that they have 
^.jxerioirmed ^.duty^ and that it will make the happiness 
.of their fntjirje d^yjs certain j if in th^ir youth they ac- 
quire ithe rbabit of coiisidc^Qg their duties iodispen* 

I ^9^ led to think more serlpqsly on this subjecj^ 
/non^ bawQg been present at a very mnamiable conteq* 
li«n ^ome x^Qntb^ since* I i^v^as making ^ mornJ^> 
visit to ap old friond^ whom I bad not s^ep ;nany 
years; she was surrounded by her family. at jny first 
^ntrancei and after a general mtroductipn, the young 
jblks' wUhdF^ew to tb^r re^cctive amusements in dif^- 
Jferent xiOJmerd of tlie room- Mrst Barlow and I bad 
recurred tp j^Qine serioua^^circwni^tanqes, which wboHy 
;cngr^$3e4 Qur ^tteiiiion^ when ^ Ipud •sbriiek startled us ; 
'J ([vrneditip4i^Q0Vfr from whence'jt. came, and beheld 
^ seen© wb iph aatonjjshed me, — the two elder girfa 
were struggling for 4 ^^oolf^ which ^he ypupger of the 
two claimed as 4er property; Andr ?n order tp attain 
hpr objPQt, «hchafd twistedthpwri^t of, her sister jsp 
yioleiitly^ as jtp occi^ion ftbe sbnuek. t^bich bad Md.nned 
us. \ ' .- . < 

^ ^* Horn twn you tei^ your sisjter, Heleui'" »aid 

' > \ 

without ty^tdwrn^ upartud denture on seMi' parents; 
but here let me be umlevstood. i 

• Tetidem^sBy inii^taken- mdiilgencies^ ai^bKn^aess- 
to the feults* df their cMHreii> are m themselves amiw 
' able weaknesses^ as oi:igi¥i2lting iti that titi^urat siSec^ 
t^n-ittplatiited in thei^QBOan-breaM towards^ these 
immediate dependants o!^ our care | ahdvifa^ugh a 
thousand in^tamoes might' be adduced to pro^^^ that 
ihe happiness^ of ohiltdren is ^o^ increased by such 
rtiethtods. Th« fhoiiveg of parents yet retaiain in an 
amiable pofet of view ; they ai»e to be pitied in' the 
disappohitinemftthf*}^ too frequently experience; and,' 
at the same time, we -May veas^naMy fttniet^^y thaC 
xiisny very iimiafefe ttiotiifet'B, from edneesa^ of tend'd?- 
ness, a&ridge theii* ei»n happines^> and greatly ^imi«^ 
nish that of their cbildi-en. 

In the case before us, I trust all my yoUng teadcfr 
will .pet'crivej that in best^owing praise tjpon Helen 
Barlow her' liiother wa^ injudki^i btr< Helen was 
Bot only tmgeherous/blit ungrMefiii. / '^ 

. Helen Barlow, fiV>m infancy, had been delicate in 
hei*hea}th'i'h*rtttOtR«rhia*' devoted herself to' the 
cftntfort 'of thir child' wkli aii*aS«diiity Tifghly praise-^ 
worthy. It pleased God to restore her to healtfr,' athd 
at t4ie peribd^ P hitii^, Hdeii wasten years of age; 
cfonsetiufenlly, an actioW '«tb- wholly inc^onsitiettt Wlth- 
kindnesft^ ^{y'mireasoifiablej atid destitute of good ifbel^ 
kig, wa« V6ry uopardonablc. - * 


In the first place, Eli^a was her elder sbter; the 
book in question had no charois for Elmor, for 
when she contended for it« possesiiion, she was oncoa^ 
8C10US of its title. What but a selfish, and ungene- 
rous ft:eling could indute such conduct; and to a mo-^ 
ther, who had provided these rational resources for 
her children, how ungrateful was that disposition, 
which converted her beneficence into a cause for dis« 

I have no doubt, but Helei^ would be greatly 
shocked' to hear her conduct treated* so seiiouslyr 
— she would be hurt if l>ms to say, that she may ha<ve 
foflrn^rf her catechism by rate, but that sheds^a stranger 
to its meaning. Let her repeat her " 4\nff toward* 
her neighbour/' Let her dwell on thatbenevolc»it and 
^vffr-applicablc sentence, ♦* Db tmt^ all meny &c/* 
and then tet her ask her heart, if ske woaid choose 
that Elisa should retaliate het- unkind treaimeut,'-^ 
assuredly not. It was pefrfecdy evident to bw, that 
thi^ selfish little girl knew her pow^Br over* her mo- 
ther ; and, that in conaequcnoe of this knowledge she 
presumed. My friend's pariialiiy for Hietena* once 
grieved m€, and ext^itcd my pity.' Bar havittjg^ since 
learned that this young Eady^s beafith is' equbl 4a all 
those* intlispensible exertions 0f nUnd ectid body, ^Y^i 
are peculiarly requisitem youlhji I have used thie free- 
dom of suggestbg to her motherlhe propriety oif xall* 
ing them into action. She received my sincere pro-* 



fessions on this head with all the warmth "of real 
. friendship j and I have reason to believe, that the 
Miss Barlow's will soon be my correspondents^ . 

If it should happen, that the incident just related 
should apply to any of my young readers^ — if they re- 
collect having exerted an authority of such sort to- 
wards a brother, sister, or companion, though a book 
should not have been the bone of contention, but a 
toy^ a pencil, or a seat^ I entreat of them to reflect, 
to mark, how odious an act which took place in a 

moment of irritation, Appears in description; and> 


that the most unfavorable conclusions might be drawn 
from such conduct, if witnessed by strangers. For 
my own part, the scene was not entirely new to me ; 
I had more than once seen the Mordaunt's engaged in 
these diimb battles, and they had awakened in me the 
most uneasy sensations; for if actions of this kind 
occur amongst brothers aiid sisters, how very imper- 
fectly they must comprehend the nature of their duties, 
and the commands of that God who has blessed them, 
in bestowing upon them the gr/eatest of all comforts^ 

..: I.. h^ve-: always obsefve4, that an only son, or, laments*, the wani of these endearing ties, 
while those who posse^^ t(he^), in. Tt^ny instances, 
seem 4e^f to the. voice of nature. 

The ^ngui^b that such dissentiona must occasion 
parents, may be more easily; imagined than described. 



And, that such conduct is contrary to the will of God, 
18 obvious to the meanest capacity. 

I refer my readers to the motto prefixed to this 
Chapter^ and I beg thetn to give to ijt their serious 



All Adventure. 

Having promised to visit a friend in the neighbour- 
hood of Kensington, next morning, I confined myself 
to answering the little Mordaunt*s before my depar- 
ture ; and to convince my young friends that I am not 
partial, even where I may be supposed to feel an affec- 
tionate interest, I insert my letter* 


I do not consider you so deficient in the art of 
writing a letter as you seem to consider yourself ; you 
were perfectly right in suggesting, that your brother's 
address would apprize me, that you do hot agree as 
brothers and sisters ought. This is, indeed, a cause 
of deep regret to me, and, if I did not hope thai your 


confession was to be followed by a* sincere desire to 
correct this unamiable conduct, I, should not feel in 
the least disposed to class you amongst my corres- 

The habit, to which you particularly refer, is ccr* 
tainly very ungraceful ; it is more the manner of an 
infant than one of your age ; and, as I conclude, that 
some expenses have been incurred in having you 
taught dancing, (which is more, essential in the effect 
it produces in the manners, and straightness of^he 
figure,) than m'the gestures and agility of the science^ 
I must, even in. this point, consider you ungrjateful. 
The most trivial expense into which a parent enters 
for the advantage of their children, calls upon them 
for a due exertion of their attention while learning, 
and a resolution to reiain^ as far as in their power, the 
instructions given* 

Amongst the rules laid down in dancing, I do not 
remember such a position as that which you have ac- 
quired; to advise a girl of ^owr^age how to conquer 
such a foible,' is simply tp tell her that it is^wrong, — 
Hhat her parents must regret that their purposes are 
defeated by the vrattention of their child, and that all 
habits of the sort are injurious in a great degree, as 
while children are growing they are liable to contract 
^ stoop,' if not a crookedness,, which may remain 
during life. 

I persuade myself, that though favored with your 
&iture correspondence, I shall have no occasion to 



\ - ■ 

revert to thi^ subject again>— and as I cannot doubt 
* your sincerity, that, you u^wA to please your parents, 
1 can assure vou, that a desire to do well is usually 
followed by the power to effect the same 3 the trail- 
* quillity of your own mind, in an attempt so laudable, 
will fully compensate for any little difficulty that may 
SLify*st appear^ formidable to you, for tbougb all silly 
habits are easily acquired> they are not so immedi- 
ately done away. God- blesses the endeavours of. all 
such as seriously apply themselves to wisdom, and 
that you may be worthy of the divine favour, is the 
wish of your sincere friend, 

Arabella Anous. 

P. S. Will you be so good as to tell your brdther, 
that the word thumps which occurred in his letter, ap- 
pears to me an expression unworthy of a'well-educalted 
child ; but, as I trust the action will not be repeated, I 
have no doubt but that Xhtword will become obsolete 
with him. 


To Miss Harriet Mordaunt.' ' 

Though a romp, at your age, may be a very well- 
meaning little girl, it is by no means necessary to 
your happiness that your days should be devoted, 
to play. 

I regret that you are not punctual in learning yodr 
lessons, and am sorry that those who teach you have 
been so liberal as to consider you wiser than you 


really are. In fixing the length of your lessons, their 
experience led therii to give you such portions as are 
usually given to childreri of your age. It appears 
they were mistaken in yonr capacity and I would ad- 
vise you to shew them this letter, which may induce 
them do udbpt a new plan, by placing you in a loxcej^ 
, class of studies. Your love of play will be greatly in- 
dulged by these means, but I hope you have ingenu- 
ity sufficient to amuse yourself, for I should be sorry 
to hear, that at ihose hours devoted to business, you 
could find a companion in your own family. 

The extrema indulgence of your grandmamma 
was most likely occasioned by the absence of your 
parents, (you see I k,now your family affairs,) she 
doubtlfess overlooked many of your little foibles on 
this account, byit, as you are now under the protec- 
tion of your mother, and express yourself anxious to 
please her. I know no method so likely to procure 
ber approbation, as a regular performance of your' 
duties^. Your grandmamma Hirley, wilfof course 
share in this satisfaction, as ypu seem to intimate 
that she takes much interest in your education ; but 
if this attempt should appear difficult to you, I request 
you to adopt the following plan : 

Give up fl// lessons iovaweeky and be careful to 
quit the lOom in which your bro.her and sisters are 
engaged in theirs. Devote yourself entirely to play, and 
give rae your opinion freely, at the end of that time. 



Be very particular in describing your feelings, and 
believe that I am interested in your happiness, 

Arabella Argus* 

P. S. Your beauty J (of which you seem to think 
much,) will be greatly encreased by a whole week! 
of play ; do not omit to name this, at the ead of tho 
term, which I have proposed to yout 

To Miss Lucy MaRDAUNT, 

I hope that you are a very little girl; indeed, I 
should be glad to hear that you were an inattentive 
child ; dne who had not sense enough to listen to 
the voice of reason, or how shall I find a way to excuse 
the numberless faults which your letter exhibits. 

But first let me observe, that the writing and spel- 
ling are excellent, and the sense clear; it is the sen- 
timents which are objectionable. You are not, per- 
haps, conscious of the character you have given 

I will explain it for you ; you Jiave avowed yaurself 
stispicioiis^ iingenerousy ^luA miserly ^ and you justify 
these qualities, by vainly imagining that others will 
Approve of them. Your nurse may be a good-natured 
• and indulgent woman, but she is not retained to 
leach you how to express yourself. All sayings are " 
vulgar, and, consequently, beneath the adoption of 
well-instructed children. I would* always inculcate 
the necessity of kind and aifectlooate treatment 


tovvar<]s the servants of your family^ and indeed to all 
servants^ but their language^ is by no means an imi- 
tation desirable. If you suspect that all persons who 
write or speak in^your presence make you their sub- 
ject, you add vanity to suspicion^ as if a child of 
your age, could be of such general consequence* 
When you refuse to a sister the trifling gratification of 
playing with your doll occasionally, your selfishness is 
evident, and this makes you unworthy of the future 
indulgence of your parents. In hoarding your nioney^ 
you arer guilty of a great fault, and are depriving 
yourself of the only blessing of riches, *' the power 
of iissiating the unfortunate/* Are you certain that 
you shall live to spend all your bright money? an<J 
when you are rich, and a woman, to what purpose 
do you propose to apply this money ? Be so good as 
to answer to these questions in your next, and like- 
wise tell me if you have never read any book in which 
charity is named, as well-pleasing to God. 

Your brother and sisters have received my genti- 
ments already; I have spoken, to them, with equal 
candour. I doubt not but they will shew you my 
letters; let me have the pleasure of discovering, 
in your next address, that you have compared your 
foibles with theirs; and then tell me, like an ingen- 
uous little girl, that you perceive your errors, and 
will receive my advice and instructions f«r your future 
happiness. Until I am assured of this, it would 

S3 ' ' 

Arabella Argus. 
Dispatching these letters, I proceeded toward, Ken- 
«ngton, when just as t bad reached the garden.gate. I 
»et Wliam Mordaunt, walking with two ! hi 
^7 and th«r nursery maids. I thought I perceived 
Wilham'8 colour heighten as I approached, and in . 
„ flioment the cause was explained j for the aurses both 
expressed their pleasure at meeting me. " Master 
Mordaunt is so troublesome, ma'am," said Jenkins, 
he runs awajrfrom us, and will go in the horse-ride 
and IS, besides, so thoughtless in throwing stones, that 
1 am sure he will do somebody a mischief " 

« How is this William," said I, « I t' 
were the protector of your little sisters." , 

" I hate to walk with nurses," said Williamj « it 
IS making quite a baby of mej I wish mamma would 
let me come out by myself." 

■ •" Yet you do not appear very fit to be trusted 
alone," said Ij «' but .1 will take this young rebel 
out of your charge for the present." I continued ad- 
dressmg myself to, Jenkins, « Tell your mistress that 
Master Mordaunt will accompany me to Kensington, 
and that I will send him home early in the'evening.'» 
William was delighted at the proposal, and the little 
girls, with a cheerfulness that was highly pleasing to 
ttie, took leave of us. 


Being rather fatigued, I proposed resting m the 
gardens a little while, a rheuhmtic complaint to which 
I am subject, made me prefer one of the enclosed 
seats 5 we entered one, in which two children, a boy 
and girl, with a lady, were sitting. The usual 
courtesies having passed, I ownad an unaffected sur- 
prise in hearing my grandson call the children, by the 
it^mc of Osborn. ** Here comes the old woman, 
Charlotte," said Master Osborn ; *^ now see how I 
will qui^her." An elderly lady was walking siowly. 
down the path. ^*Pray don't speak to her, Charles/' said 
the little girl, ^' for if she really is the Spectator, I 
should be quite afraid of her; she is such a cross imperti- 
-nent thing." " Indeed, but I will j** said Charles Osborn ;. 
and he ran across the path, to intercept the stranger. 

*< Your brother Charles is a rude child," said the 
young lady -who had charge of "Miss Qsborn, ^^ I well 
know that my word would not influence hina to- he- 
have better, but he shall not w^lk with me again."— 
** But if my mamma says he may," returned MissOs- 
born, with all the authority of a presuming little girU 
" I suppose ^oM will not say he shall not come." 

^' Do not trouble yourself to think upon the siib-^ 
jtect,'' said the governess of Miss Osborn; *^ you' are 
too young to offer an opiuion."* *^ Iwill tell mamma, 
directly I go home." replied the arrogant little 
pet ; ." i wish I bad my own good-natured nursj^ 
again," ' 

C 3 • r , 



The young person appeared much hurt by the man- 
ner of her ungracious pupil, and, lool^rng towards 
' roe, she said, '* This lady is a Spectator, }Aiss Osborn, 
and I think your manners will not faif to make an 
impression on her mind, not much to your advan- 
tage.'^ ' ^ 

I *^fclt mysdf inclined to humble the pride of 
this unamiable child, and, turning to her gover- 
ness, I asked if her pifpil coiild read, ** Very indifier- 
ently ;'* was the reply. '* I thought so," continued I, 
** for she appears to me, very uninformed ;" " Pray 
what age is she?'* " Miss Osborny is nine years old 
madam." — ^' Poor child/* said I, " I pity he/ friends.*' 
The cpuntenance of Miss Osborn, was instantly 
suffused by blushes, she looked at me for a 
moment ; and, in the next, throwing her arms round 
the neck of her governess, she bijrst into tears. " Let 
us go/* said she, in a half whisper, *^ and pray don't 
tcll my papa<hat I have been rude to you.*' 

*' I will not name it, unless I am asked,** said the 
yoting person. '* I am persuaded,** said I, extending 
my hand to the young culprit, "that this little girly 
tias not been long enough under your care to know 
the happiness and advantage of having a companion 
always .ready to assist her pursuits, and encourage 
her when she really deserves it." '* Miss Watson has 
only been with me a week," replied Charlotte Osborn. 
" You see I ju(Jged truly," I continued. '^ Little girls, 
who have not been used to a regular performance^of 

Page. 35 . 


lessojns, and who have unfortunately been indulged 
by their nurses, are very unfit to judge for themselves; 
and, unless they feel their own ignorance, and are de- 
sirou5i, as well as Willing, to gain knowledge, they 
will nev^r find a governess, who will continue with 
them any time/' 

^^ You won't leave me?" — asked ihe child. '^ Cer- 
tainly not, if you behave well, and are attentive,^ 
said Miss Watson. ." Indeed, I will try,'* said the 
now-subdued Charlotte. — ^^ And I am sure you, will 
succeed,'^ said I, at the same time offering one of 
my Jozenges to my newly-acquired friend. 

I was rising to look aftef my grandson, when I saw 
him advancing; he seemed heated and out of breath. 
'^ O, grandmamma," said William, ^* Charles Osboru 
has got into siich a scrs^pe; — but here be comes, and 
the lady with him, I knew she would, though he did 
not believe her when she said so." In a moment, the 
same venerable looking female wKo bad passed sdnre 
time before, approached the seat. '^ Does thi» 
young gentleman belong to you, madam?" said she, 
.addressing me., I replied in the negative, and Miss- 
Watson explained that he was tmder her care, and the 
son of General Osborn. 

^* I thank you, madam," said the stranger. *' I have 
the honour of knowing his excellent father, who, I 
am well assured, \vould severely reprehend the imper- 
tinence of his son's conduct, if known/* " Why, 


what have I done ?" said Charles, in an humble tone 
of voice, '' I did not think you knew my papa/* 

*^ And is this an apology ?'' said the lady"; ** or ra- 
ther, does it not add cowardice to rudeness ?•— I see 
that youare alarmed, but I must remind you, sir, that 
this id not ihe first insult I have received from you; ' 
when I warned you, a week oV two ago, that you were 
in danger of being drowned, by walking so near th? 
water, you then evinced much vulgarity and ingrati* 
tude. I passed over this, because I considered that • 
nay caution clashing with that which you Esteemed an 
amusement, might make you less guarded in your an- 
swers, than was consistent with good'-breeding ; but 
to-day there is no such excuse. I did not mean to re^ 
cognise you when you boldly stopped me in my path, . 
called me * Old Spec long nose,' and ^ Cross patch.' 
Even this was too vulgar to excite any other than si- 
lent contempt ; but when you caught the walking- 
jcane, which assists my lameness in a great degree, 
and were so insolent and cruel as to throw a stone at 
xne, which has grazed my ancle, I felt that I should 
be equally criminal with yourself, if I concealed such ,. 
disgrffc^ful conduct from those who may be supposed 
io have some authority over you.'' 

'^ Make my compliments to the^eneral, madam," . 
said the stranger, with a grave, but resolute counte- 
n^iice,- turning to Miss Watson, s ^' and have the 
goodnesa to say^ that Lady Liston will do herself the 


honor of calling on him to-morrow-morning^'^ smf^. 
with a graceful curtsey, she retired. 

I saw fear strongly depicted in the fcatares of 
Charles Osborn^ I took my leave of* Charlotte and 
her governess, and as I proceeded on my way* wa» 
careful to discover if William had taken any part in 
the late disgraceful transaction. 

*^ God forbid, grandmamma,'' said my little com* 
panion. ** No, indeed I was ashamed of Charles 
Osborn, and begged him not to throw' the stone at 
the lad^ ; but he laughed at me, and said he hated old 
women, and he was so certain she was the old sly 
Spectator, that he was determined to vex her. Tlje 
Jady could not understand what he me^ut by ' Old 
Spec' *' continued William, '* but indeed, grand- 
mamma, I do not wonder that Charles Osborn is 
mortified at the letter he has got from the Spectator, 
it is quite different to the one I received/* 

** I rejoice," cried I, '^ that there rs a distinction 
in this particular, for I should certainly blush to owA 
as a relation, a child who^ could beaf the least resem- 
blance to Master Osborn, and I doubt not but your 
manner of addressing this invisible friend, was as dis- 
tinct as h'cr reply. Lady Liston will, I trust, persevere 
in her resolution of wjiiting pn General Osborn, who, 
from what I heard his little girl say, is too fond of his^ 
childreri not to reprove their faults. I have taken a 
fancy to Miss Osborn, who appears rather an indulged 


.than an uriaraiable child ; yel I hope you are not in the 
habit of visiting these little folks, for in their present 
characters^, they are by no -means desirable acquaint- 
ances/' William assured me they were only Park 
friend^s, having met occasionally in their morning 

I imagine that it is almost unnecessary for me to 
explain to my young readers, why my opinion of 
Charlotte Osborn on a sudden became so favourable, 
that I should avow I took an interest in the child. Lest 
I should be accused of "whimsicality, I must simply 
state, that' the real shame, so evident when I inquired 
her age and capacity of her governess, convinced me 
that she possessed feeling ; and the earnestness with 
which she expressed her intention of endeavourivg to 
act by the directions of Miss Watson, was a proof that 
Jthe saw her errors ; and I know no greater mark of 
wisdom, than that which a confession of our faults 
illustrates. No encouragement should be wanting 
where this disposition is observable, and I really re- 
gretted that I did not know the mother of this little 
girl, whose indulgence has, I fear, been the principal 
source of her childrens' very inelegant manners. .1 , 
resolved, however, to use my pen in the service of 
^iss Osborn, at a period not very distant. 

My grandson and I reached the house of my friend^ 
where we passed a very agreeable day. There were no 
#hildren'lo bear William company, but I was gratified 




by observing, that he seemed at no loss for amuse^ 
ment.. The hou^ was hirge, and a very fine garden^ 
in high cultivation^ was at once a new scene, and a 
great pleasure to a boy, accustomed dnly to see a few 
weakly plants arranged in a balcony during the spring 
season, and consequently an almost stranger to the 
thousand beauties that a living garden o>\'ns. So 
many little indecorums had met my eye, when mix- 
ing with the Mordaunt family, that I freely confess I 
was strict in observing the manner of WiUiann, when 
we first walked round the garden. I trembled kst he 
should, from thoughtlessness, destroy any of the 
flowers ; I watched to see if he regarded the fruit wi<h 
that sort of attention, which should compel my friend 
-to offer some to his acceptance ; and it was with infi* 
nite pleasure I remarked the propriety of his conduct 
in both these particulars. Few things could have 
been more painful to me, tbalh to have had occasion 
to reprove him ; in fact, there cannot be a more de- 
. grading thing, than that very erroneous, but general 
remark, ** that it is natural for children to wish for 
fruit when they see it, and that it i^ impossible not to 
give them some.'* On this principle, I suppose, 
grown persons, who have outlived their />Mm/e fan- 
cies, are to be gratified by attaining a house^ carriage, 
or any thing which may happen to suit their taste; 
such a system would be equally proper, with that of 
indulging children in such points. I- consider it of 


infinite advantage, that children should, at timeSj he 
present where such luxuries as are now in general use 
are jadmitted— that they should have forbearance sufB- 
cienjt to refrain from asking to partake of them ; and 
that tl^e limited portion which the judgiment of their 
parents should deem \t proper to allow them, should 
never, be a regular^ but an occasional indulgence* 
Of all indulgencies, that of the palate is most dis-^ 
graceful to reasonable creatures ; and to make nice 
fruit, tarts, or cakes, rewards to children who have 
performed their lessons well, is to level them with ir- 
rational animals. A very little reflection is necessary' 
to establish my remark. , 

If a cat catches a mouse, (and the act is an im- 
portant accomplishment in the education of a cat) 
^ve reward her by the dainty morsel;' while to the 
do^, who sets up and begs, we throw the half- picked 
bone. The rewards are in these cases appropriate, for 
neither of the animals would understand us, if we 
expressed our approbation of their conduct, by two- 
d&iate praises. 

I intreat my little friends, however, not to imagine 
that I include Mother Hubbard's cat among the unen- 
lightened of that species. I entertain the mast per-- 
feet respect for genius^ wherever it emanates ; but, at 
the same time, must avow, that while I can hope to 
be serviceable to a higher class, in the persons of 
children^ \ 6hall never feel disposed to shew more fa- 
vour to animals, than that which humanity dictates* 



The behaviour of William Mordaunt, during our 
visit, wa{5 80 well regulated, that in our ridfe to Town, 
I took occasion to express my approbation of bia 
manners. My grandson seemed gratified by, my 
praise. ** Indeed, my dear boy," said I, as the coach 
drew up to the dwelling of my daughter, *^ if I had 
not heard you cast |in indirect censure on your good 
mother^ by disputing her right to send you out with 
female servants^ I should have made a memorandum 
of this day in my red letter book. I shall say nothing 
of throwing stones ; Master Osborn has given you an 

that error, without my enlarg- 
My dear grandmother,'' 
said William, as he kissed my cheek, at parting, *' I 
do think you would make the best Spectator in the 
world." — ** God bless you, my child," said I, as he 
idescended the steps, '* it is for thy h^piness, and 
that of thy dear family, that I have undertaken the 
arduous task ; may the attempt prove successful, theifi 
may I proudly own, that I have not beeu an uselesa 

— — _ ,. — ^ ^ — , — 

opportunity ofiudging that 
ing on the subject.*'—** 


I -^ 


CHAP ilt. 

** 0> let th' nngentle ipirit leafn &om hexsce^ 
A small unklndncsB is a great ofience*** 

Ok arriving at home, I found three or four Iet» 
ters on my writing table. The first that engaged mf 
attention was one> the superscription of which was ill 
written, and worse spelt j but on opening it, my sur- 
prise was superseded by the subject it contained; 
whije, to the well-meaning writer, every allowance for 
the inaccuracy of its style was as instantly given. It 
ran thus : 

Too Missus Hargus, 

If you please Marm, I ope you wont b6 hangry 
with roe for the liberty I take in riting to you. but Hi 
haoi a nursery maid in a Gentelmuns fammerly, and 


hi likes my Missus very much, but the Yung Ladys, 
are riot Jiover kind to* me. you see they have corned 
from the hindies, and ad black slaves about um, and 
so they think we Engleish are slaves, they are so pas- 
sernate, and want so many things at once, that hif I 
ad seven pair of ands I could not do hall they wish. 
hi ham very willing to please them, but I do not think 
they ave any rite to strike me^ and call me creter, 
hand fool. Miss Louise run a pin hinto my fingers 
the other dayV becaus hi did not ear when she ringed 
the Bell, and they say hi speak so bad, and make fua , 
of me, but hif I dont know Grammur, that his not 
my faut, hi speaks has the peepel in my village do, 
hand has hi, never calls them names, but ham always 
sivil to um, 1 dont think, they ave hany rite to treat 
me so — I hurd one of them say, she would rite to you 
about sumthing, so I thort you might praps be a sur« 
vants frend has well has a Ladysi. I ope you wilt bex« 
,cuse my boldness, and beleve me your 

umble Sarvant 

Jenny Bennet. 

P S. direct for Jentiy Bcnnet hat Missus Murdock'$ 
Cavendish squere. 

It was evident to me, that Jenny Betinet was in a si- 
tuation for which she was not qualified { but this was 
no apology for the illiberality and cruelty of the Miss 
Murdocks\ I turned to the remaining letters, hoping 


that I should find one of them to be the production of 
Miss MurdoQk. I was not disappointed : -a very 
ill-folded and irregularly written epiaile came next 
under my. consideration* 

Mrs. Ajficasi . < 

I know a young lady who has VDritXo you, and I 
have seen your answer; I mean Miss Wilmot. She 
is satisfied with what you say to her ; but as I have 
quite different things to think of, I hope your answer ta 
me will be very unlike what you ^e'Tirfher. Mamma 
is very indulgent to us to be sure, but not quite so 
piuch as she used to be when we were at India \ and 
indeed altogether the people here are n6t so respectful 
AS what we met when we were %n Bengal ; and the 
servants in particular are mot>strous impertinent, they 
do not obey us at all. We have got such an ignorant 
cduntry girl in our nursery, that there is no beating 
any sertse into hpr \ she uses the h where it should not 
be sounded, and where it should be used, she is sure to 
leave it out, I don't think she ever heard of gram- 
mar in her life : noW you know this is very provoking, 
3S we have masters coming every day' to us, and it 
makes me quite nervous to listen to her. And as to 
English servants being so active, it is quite a mistake; 
they are so slow,' and so proud, if one calls them 
liastily, they seem ready to cry ; and really when oiva 
is in a hurry, it is almost impossible to beai^with 


ihem. Louisa ha])pened to* run a pin into our maid's 
hands, and if -she had been a lady she could not have 
made more fuss about it, which is certainly very odd, 
for if we may not have some powct over them, wef, 
might as well be without servants. Mamma is thinking 
of having a governess for us, but I hope she may not 
find one, for I am certain I should hatcher, and in- 
deed I know two or three young ladies, who tell me 
that it is the shockingest thing in the world to have a 
governess, and I am sure it is true, and I have no no- 
tion of there being thought so clever, for you know 
when you pay people, and keep them in the house^ 
what are they but servants? We have told mamma about^ 
you, and she does not object to my writing to 3'ou ; so 
any hint you choose to give about governesses would 
please us very much, as Miss Wilmot is such a. fa- 
vourite of mamma's, that she thinks you must be a pro- 
per person, because she speaks well of you. Pray 
write dgaiiist governesses, for Louisa and me are quite 
dreading the thought of them. 

I remain your^s, 

Caroline Murdock* 
'Cavendish Square^ 

The evening being far advanced, I confined myself 
to the perusal of the two remaining letters ; \and as I 
now glanced on the next in order, I felt an ii^voluntaty 
regret, that the address of my amiable little friend. 
Miss Wilmot, should have remained so long unno- 


ttioughtSj that I find it very difficult to be reserved 
with her. She has found me crying once or twice, 
and was so aflfectionate in inquiring the cause, that 
nothing but my promise to Jones made me silent* 
And this morning, my papa, while wewere walking 
together, observed my looks, *' I thought,*' said my 
dear papa,^*^ that my Sophia loved her father ; indeed, 
I was going to treat her as a frieiid, but I find she does* 
not wish that I should consider her so wi^e/' — " O, 
my dear sir,", said 1, *' I should be very happy if 

you"^; And here, ma'aip/ I am afraid you will 

think me wrong, but I could not speak another word^ 
my heart was so full ; all I know is, that my papa 
pressed me in his arms, and declared he loved me as 
I deserved, and that \ should ever find him the ten- 
derest of fathers and of friends. 

I am so unhappy since this, and feel so sure that I 
have acted wrong, that I am most anxious for your 
advice and ^opinion. I beg you, madam, to remem- 
ber my promise to Jones, but hope you will give me 
some directions, that shall enable me to explain every 
thing to my papa, and Mrs. Arnold. 


I am, dear madam. 

Your respectful and obliged 
humble servtint, . 

Sophia Wiimot* 



The remaining letter made me smile. The gentle- 
man was a perfect stranger to me. He may^ however^ 
be known to some of my young friends^ and should 
any of his remarks suit them, I hope they will endea* 
vour to correct their foibles. Though there is (Certainly 
some asperity in the manner of my new correspondent^ 
I must confess, that his censufe is, for the most part, 

Though r heartily wish you success in your laudable 
attempt, I can. scarcely hope that you will attain it. 
The children of the present day are as distinct from 


those with whom my youth was passed, as boldness 
and modesty can make them. I beg youi* pardon for 
the force of my expression^ but I am absolutely enrag- 
ed at all I see and hear in families whose sense and re- 
spectability are unquestionable. I am an old batche- 
lor, arid have much delight in neatness, whether ap- 
plied to the person, or the apartments in which I Visit 
or reside. My acquaintance is extensive, and I have 
many invitations to dinner ; but -I really believe I must 
give up all ideas of society, for nothing can equal the 
inconveniences to which these dinner tickets subject 
me. Permit me to explain a few of those unseasonable 
introductions of which I complain. One, and not , 
the least serious, of my vexations occurred about a 
week since, where a very interesting and rational con- 
versation was interrupted by tHe lady of the house call- 
ing our united attention to a recitation, or rathet 


- I 

f ■ * ^ -. 

what I should call a downright miO'der^ of CatoV Soli- 
loquy. We waited some time, while the boy grumbled . 
out his ** noes," and *' inde^ds," but all he could 
«ay, had no effect. His mother declared Jackey would 
be a second Pit. I groaned internally at this presump- 
tuous assertion. Jackey thumbed his' buttons^ 
scratched his head^ &c. &c. At length he set off; 
Gilpin himself did not travel with more expedition 
than our orator gabbled, and like that famous jockey^ 
who, when he got to the calender's, turned about his 
horse and began his journey to London with equal 
^peed: so Jackey, once put in motion, had no mercy 
on us. Speech ^ succeeded to speech: the ladies de- 

'^ claredhe was quite a genius, while one or two men, 
in a voke scarcely intelligible, said something about 

. ^^ good memory." For my part, I was silent. The 
orator was introduced at the desert, aud here, again, his 
genius was called forth. He was to construe a Latin 
sen^nce, which had been used by a very intelligent 
young man. The dictionary was exhibited, and we, 
one and all, were obliged to refer wjth Jackey in order 
ta establish the fact of his amazing capacity. Madam, 
there is no man more willing to do justice to youthful 
talents; I honour them , wherever I meet t hem, but 
I cannot bear to see children thus forced into notice ; 
it is'spoiling the^ii and destroying the purposes of so- 
ciety : an applicable remark or correct reference that 
grows out of the present conversation is worthy of 
commendation, but, to the obtrusive interruptions of 


children^ I can neither give my time nor my approba* 

Another source of unspeakable inconvenience to 
me, was the introduction of a very fine boy, a few even- 
ings since, whom all the party denominated a < 
** Pickle.** I happened unfortunately to he the only 
man in the room who wore a queue. I was leaning 
bacls on a stuffed sofa, when my attention being sud- 
denly called to observe a ladv who was just rising to 
take a seat at the piano, . I made a motion to follow . 
RTid assist her in arranging the music^book, when I 
felt a shock inexpressible. Master " Pickle" had fas- 
tened my hair ribbon to the sofa-cover. I was not suffi- 
ciently master of mj'self to disguise my feelings^ but 
in very plain language expressed my dislike of such 
jokes. The ladies, who love a little m^zpce?!/ mischief at 
the expense of an old bachelor, smiled amoi^st them- 
selves, but to me it was no laughing matter. I realjy 
suffered much pain from ill is young gontlemau's fro«^ 
lie. ** Tell me, Ned,*' said the mother of Mittle Pickle/ 
** why did jou fix on Mr.Testy for a joke.*' <^ Because 
I thought his queue was false,*' said the boy. "I 
wish your conjecture had been just/' said I, '* it 
would have saved me much pain," 1 saw half a 
dozen highly frizzled heads in the companiy,^ who 
seemed amused at my disaster, and confess I was one 
who joined in a laugh which was general an^ hour or 
two after, when a wig a la Brutus was brought to the 
carpet by our youngs " Pickle,'* who had dared the 

D 2 


gentleman to an unequal sparring contest^ and whea 

vanquished by the one hand of his enemy^^ took revenge 

on his wig. 

I have already intruded on your time most unn^er- 

cifully, but let me beg of you, my good Mrs. Argus, 

to represent the folly of these ridiculous introductions. 

.1 do not agree with the old adage, '^ that children 

should be seen but not heard.'' But I must condemn 

all forwardness : it is very unbecoming, and unless 

there is some reform in this particulary I shall be 

compelled to give up a great many friends whom 1 

esteem, and henceforth take my meals at home and 


I am. Madam, 

Your obedient servant, 

Timothy Testy. 

P.S. If I have not tired you let me know> and I- 
^ill give a few more examples of my miseries. 

This gentleman's complaints appeared to me too 
well founded to be disregarded \ and I, in consequence, 
resolved on assuring him of my attention to his com- 
munications ; but the night was now hastening to its 
close, and I, with the perrpission of my little friends, 
will here close my Chapter. 

* ^ 

( 53 ) 


«< Children, like tender osiers take the boW| 
kvA as they first are fashiooed, always grow.** 

There is scarcely a more important step in the for- 
mation of the youthful character, than that of incul- 
cating the necessity of order in all their undertakinga. 
I isim persuaded, that more of our happiness in advanc- 
ed life depends upon this than on any other or more 
shining quality. The subject, however dull it may 
appear upon a cursory view, is capable of much en- 
largement \ and among those observations which my 
present character has led me to make* I feel cer- 
tain, that the greater part of the foibles, errors, and 


misapplication of talents^ which I have so often (k- 
plored, proceeds, in a great degree, from a want of 
method, — from a total disregard of our most valuable, 
yet rrrost fleeting possession, time. 

The thousa^nd dangers to which delay subjects us it 
were an endless task to enumerate. A few of those 
peculiar to children, who are in' themselves free fron\ 
intentional error, shall suffice in this place. What 
excuse can be made for a girl, whoi after the age of 
eight, is fiot able to find those articles of dress called 
walking things) who must disturb the servants 
from their dinner, to help her to find her shoes, hat, 
and pelisse. How can it happen that such things 4ire 
mislaid ? The answer is simple. When the young 
lady comes in IVom her walk, she leaves her shoes in 
one place, her gloves in another ; and how is it pos- 
sible that she should seek into such matters. Does 


not her mamma^ keep servants to attend to such things^ 
and what are they for ? It is not in reason to expect 
that servants will be very anxious to administer ta the 
comforts of such arbitrary little despots. A sense of 
their difty may lead them to a slovenly performance ia 
some . particulars,' but these juvenile tyrants will cer- 
tainly experience some mortifications. For instance, 
I was present a few days since, where a .young lady, 
was told to put on her pelisse, &c. and she should 
take an airing with her mother and myself, Mary 
Woodgate ran away *' to get ready," as she said. I 
heard the nursery-bell ringmg incessantly, but I was 


not sufficiently intimate to enquire into causes/ llie 
carriage arrived, Mrs, VVoodg^te and I were ready, 
and as we opened tlie drawing-room door tb descend, 
my friend dalled to her daughter, saying, " she could 

" not wait.-' " What an ill-natured thing you are," J^aid 
a voice which I instantly discovered to be Miss Wood- 
^ate. *' Indeed Miss Woodgate," said the servant, 

. *^ you would make any body crciss. Your mamm^ 
has repeatedly told me not to put away your gloves or 
bonnct> and as I always have your shoes ready, I know 
I have done my part.*- *^ Dear me, I have got odd 
gloves,'* said Mary. " Run Sally, look in my draw- 
ers or my box, and you will find one." We had 
reached the carriage and were seated. My friend, 
vrho is at once a tender and a judicious mother, leaned 
forward, and regarding her daughter who had now 
, made her appearance — ^* My dear Mary,'' said Mrs» 
Woodgile, ^^ you have forfeited your airing this morn- 
ing. I heard you speaking very intemperately to Sally. 
You look out of humour. Your.cloaths are npt put 
on with neatness, and your gloves are not suited ; 
when you are careful to put these things in their pro- 
per places,' you will always know where to find them. 
I could not think of introducing my daughter to a very 
old and eMeemed friend, when so visibly unfitted for 
company." This gentle, yet praiseworthy reproof, 
had its full effect on the bumbled Mary, who retired 
into the house, evidently much affected by her disap- 
pointment. I could <not refrain from expressing my 


approbation of my friend's conduct. '* My dear Mrs, 
Harley," said Mrs,- Woodgale, ^* I am fully sensible 
of the bounty of Providence in making me the mother 
of a healthy httle family; but as they are not entirely 
mine^ as their happiness, in a great measure, will depend 
upon their self-government, I am most anxious to im- 
press on their infant minds, thenecessity of AttwantVy, 
activity^ and ohedience. Mary possesses many excel- 
lent qualities, but a little thoughtlessness of character^ 
at times, overshadows these good properties. I 
have so often expressed my wish, that she should re- 
gularly fold and put away certain articles of her 
cloaths which I have specified, that were I to overlook 
Iter inattention, she would consider that I had no mo- 
tive for such an exaction ; and ias I never ask my child- 
ren to perform any thing biit from a strongs convic- 
tion of its conducing to their happiness, I cannot 
submit to have my commands disputed. There are 
many persons who object to wounding the feelings of 
children ; but where they evince intellect, I must 
consider it the most .effectual method to address them 
through the medium of reason : to a child of weak ca- 
pacity, a system more lenient should be observed ; but 
really, niy dear friend, when I reflect thai all my care 
and assiduity, blessed by the protecting favour of 
heaven in their lengthened lives, is ultimately to fit 
them for situations that must remove them from my 
fostering arms, the necessity of making them amiable 
seems more than ever essential. If I can discover a 


Speck, what would less tender arbiters discern ? And 
has not it been enjoined us, to • Train up a child in 
the way he should go.' Surely then, that system 
which religion dictates and nature and reason sanctifies, 
must be at once the model for parents, and the bliss , 
of their offspring," 

I left Mrs. Woodgate with increased res.pect and 
esteem. - A contrast of the most striking sort present- 
ed itself in my next visit. 

Oil calling at Sir George Astons, I entered the 
drawing-room at a moment of extraordinary confu- 
sion. A boy of twelve years old was crying in so loud 
a tone, that be nearly stunned me. Lady Aston was 
. coaxing him to moderate his grief, while Sir George 
rang the bell, and ordered Mr. Spencer to be told that 
*^he Wdnted him.'' *^ My dear Rtrs. Harley,*' said 
Sir George, '* I am ashamed you should have arrived 
at so unfortunate a season ; but allow me a few- mo- 
ments for investigation, and I wilf then attend to 
friendship.'* I had scarcely acquiesced by a bow ere 
Mr. Spencer appeared. " Pray, sir," said Sir George, 
*^ why do you refuse Master Aston his half holiday. :'* 
^ "For a very siHijJe reason/' replied Mr. Spencer, 

• ■ * *. . . 

** he docs not deserve one.*^ '* How is this, George.'* 
^aid the baronet, " did pot you tell me that you had 
performed your duties to the satisfaction qf your tu- 
tori" " No— yes f said^George, " but Mr. ISpencer 
is so -particuhi^r, and expected more of tne to-day 

D 3 ' 



58 JUVENILE spectatok; 

than usual^ only hecause be knew I wanted to go to 
my cousin's as soon as possible/' ^ 

I saw the countenance of Mr. Spencer crimson with 
honest indignation. ^^ Sir George^" said the offended 
tutor^ *' your son is so little advanced in his studies* 
that were he as zealous as boys of his age usually are^ 
it would be many months before he- could acquire the 
necessary spur to learning, order. He is seldorakready 
for me, and if any recreation is in view> his manner 
of saying his lessons is slovenly, and he presumes to 
comproinise the matter by avowing, that he will do 
better to-morrow, but that to-day he is going out> or 
expects visitors. These frivolous excuses have been 
offered to me three times thl& week : when I express 
my disappointment, be accuses me of particularity, &c. 
The fi:eedom is improper, as addressed to his teacher^ 
amd if he cannot make his business perfect before he 
takes his pleasure, he will never prove himself worthy 
of indulgence, or do credit to those who have the charge 
of him/' ," Very just/' said Sir George, ^^ your 
statement is exactly what I expected, nor should I 
have drawn you from your study but to gratify Lady 
Aston,, who is unfortunately but little skilled in the 
modes proper to be used with boys^" Mr. Spencer 
bo^ed cooly, and was retiring, when Lady Aston, 
with an imploring accent, begged Mr. Spencer would 
forgive George tJiis once, and she would answer for 
his being ago6d boy to-morrow.'* ^'-^My power over 
this young gentleman is at an end, Madam,^' replied 


tbe ,tulor"j *^ he has thought proper to arraign my 
motives ; if I am capable of a meanness so contemp- 
lible, I am unfit for the charge reposed in me by Sir 
George j and permit me to add, that where I cannot 
excite* esteem, I should consider my instructions 
lost;*' and with a respectful bow he withdrew. 

The baronet, whose vexation was evident, turned 
to his son, and with much acrimony arraigned his 
ignorance and stupidity, declaring, that he should not 
leave tbe house for a month ; n^, it was very proba- 
bly, he would seek some cheap school, at a distance 
from London, to which he would send him, until he 
had conquered hi^^ baby-hke follies. Lady Aston now 
joined her tears with those of her pet : I was awk- 
wardl)' situated ; but while I was hesitating how ,to 
depart. Sir George bade his son go to bis room for 
tbe remainder of the day. " Do advise with Aston,*' 
said her ladyship, ** he loves the-dear boy just a$ well 
as Ido, but he has no fixed plan for him as yet.'^ 

^' If this charge is just,** said I, smiling, "I won- 
der what excuse ye grown babies have ta offer for 
yourselves.'* ** None,** said the baronet, *Vwe are 
the most mistaken pair in the kingdom j but it is 
chiefly Lady Aston's fault : if the boy remains, a wAo/tf 
morning with his tutor, she takes fright at the pallid* 
ncss of his looks when he makes his appearance* hi the 
drawing-room ; and again, when she meets children, 
his junior by some years, who ar^ intelligent, and do 
credit to their instructors, she is full of regrets.*'^^ 

60 JCVfeNlLE S^ECtATOft. 


My dear Sir George/' retorted her ladyship, ^* it \^ 
you who are impatient ; have you not frightened the 
poor boy by telHiig him that he is to be a counsellor, 
and that you expect he will study morning, noon, and 
night, till he has got through all the books in your 
library; and between ourselves, Mr. Spencer is very 
harsh ; George's nerves are delicate, he cannot bear 

'^ My dear madamV* said I, ** though the age and 
appearance of your son might justify the belief that he 
had (.made some proficiency in his learning, I am 
tempted to think that you have engaged a tutor foT ' 
him somewhat too soon ; unless you could reconcile 
yourself to yield your right in all that relates to the 
privileges of a tutor. When men of character and 
science undertake a task of this sort, they are account^ 
able for the manner in -which they acquit themselves ; 
they are in the situation of an author, who gives a 
work to the world, which is to tarnish his name, or 
carry it down to posterity with honour. And, though 
^om^ few instances might be adduced of piipils dis-- 
honouring the care of their early guardians, I trust, 
and believe, there .are thousands who lookback to 
this happy period of their lives, and these kind friends 
of their, youth, with feelings that do them honour. 
But, if you are only now beginning the education 5f r 
your son, forgive me, if I say, that much caution is * 
required to make learning appear, what it ever should 
be, a pleasure. I am unacquainted with the causes 


that have delayed his improvement ; and, though I 
would recommend every gentle incitement to be 
offered that can rouse a love of knowledge, and would 
recommend such books as exemplify the uses and ad- 
vantages of emulation, I would by no means dismay, 
by the vastness and profundity of abstruse learning.'* 

*' All this is true,'' said Sir George, '^ we'have de- 
layed the matter too long; but his mother has always 
been so full of fears, he was too delicate to bear re- 
propf ; in short, she has suggested so many obstacles 
to all my plans with regard to our son, that I aiii at 
this moment wholly undetermined how to act by 
fiim, — what would you advise?'* 

^^ Dismiss the idea of sending your child froni 
home,*' said I ; ^' a school, though eminently cal- 
culated to inspire emulation in* a prepared mind, 
would, in this case, prove the ..tomb of intellect; 
Humiliations innumerable would assail him in such a 
situation. Keep him under your eye, but consign the 
task of tuition to one in whom you have implicit con- 
fidence, and to that person give discretionary power 
of acting. It is by no means necessary that you 
should be restrained from interfering in every parti- 
cular which relates to your son, but it is rarely, if 
ever, requisite, that children should be a /party "in 
any of the opinions, objections, or purposes, that 
may naturally result between parents and instructors. 
Oueof the most prominent traits in the infant charac- 
ter is that of imitation; and they are generally ob- 


I ■ 

served to shape their manners, and express their sen- 
timents, by those of their parents ; thus, the teacher, 
who, it is but natural and reasonable to suppose less 
esteemed by them, falls into disi^epute on the most 
trivial expression of disapprobation that the pateni 
shall utter. With Master Aston I should recommend 
very lenient and conciliating measures; his lesson? 
should be short, but frequent ; his rewards, uniformly 
your moderate approbation. Visiting, presents, or toys, 
would break in upon the application so necessary to 
his advancement and I must believe, that to confine 
the happiness of children tb home, to that meed 
which it is always in the power of parents to bestow, 
is not only the most judicious method, but also the 
most effectual way of binding children to theif pa- 
rents, and teaching them to value their favor as it 
should be valued.'* 

Sir George .and his lady appeared to coincide in my 
sentiments, aiiid before I took leave they had resolved 
on committing their son to the care of Mr. Spencer, 
with all the requisite privileges that could assist hia 
education. In my drive home, my reflections fully 
established the remark used in the preceding part 
of this C^iapter. — What^ but want of order had pro- 
duced the lamentable deficiencies of George Aston ? 
"want of health in infancy may and does frequently 
reiard learning, but the earliest season of convales* 
cence should be seized by the watchfiil parent,' to 
make a good impression j however slow the progress. 


the seed should be ftowny and the culture attended to 
with the nicest care. The intellects of children vary, 
one shoots out luxuriantly^ almost spontaneously $ 
another produces rare and superior fruity b]^ slow and 
progressive care ; while a third starts prematurely into 
society, bearing, even with . its blossoms^ the rank- 
ling weed > of how much consequence, then, is an 
earty attention to order^ an uniform regard-7-to the 
time present. Yet even with some, who have ima- 
gined themselves actuated by this essential principle, 
there are many instances of vanity. I have heard 
children go through . their regular business with all 
the orde^ that had been suggested by their teachers, 
and have beard them exact some promised indulgence, 
when, in fact, their exertions have been of a sort to 
claim no such distinctions. To repeat a number of 
lessons, in a slovenly way, is to disgrace the under- 
standing that it has pleased Heaven to bestow upon 
you; to hurry through those prayers which are ap- 
pointed for your morning and evening devotion, is 
not what has been asked of vou. I know that some 
of you will find excuses *^ you are sleepy" or '^ the 
night is cold," " you have sat up later than usual.** 
why did you so ? — you reply, you just wanted to finish 
some trifle, with which you. were . engaged. — Why 
not leave the trifle till to-morrow, anil use the hour 
permitted to you in that service, which it is ungrate- 
ful to delay? 
How frequently do these little subterfuges occur, and 




bow often have Lheard chHdreii entreat half an hour 
Ipiiget for their ttmusemeni in the drawing-room, who 
•have, by their imperfect devotional exercises, convinc- 
ed' me that they deserved no indulgence of the sort* 
— We do not expect from children, either that reflec- 
tion or forethought which experience alone can esta- 
blis^h, but habJts of order, may and shouM be incul- 
cated, even in infancy. Order originates in duty to 
those who have charge of us. Delay is consequently 
a' stranger to that child who is rieared on this most 
amiable and virtuous principle. - - 

• Tn every important situation of our lives, the com- 
fort derived from a just disposition, or division, of our 
time, is cledrly demonstrated ; and, in all the lesser 
objects that engage the attention, as applied to plea- 
sure or convenience^' its advantages are equally ob- 
vious: in the two instances, on which I have ex- 
xpatiated, it must be observed, that the_ little idlers 
met their disappointments'. The rea<ler may, per- 
haps, regard Miss Wobdgate*s deprivation incon- 
siderable, — btit let me remind them, that to her mor- 
tification must be added, the temporary displeasure of 
her mother; a circumstance, in itself, (ruJy painful 
to an amiable and well-disposed child ; nor is it unim- 
portant to reflect, that strangers may be led to form 
unfavourable opinions, in cases where the commands 
of parents have been neglected. Of George Aslon., 
it would be ungenerous to say much; from mistaken 
indulgence, and irresolute plans, his parents have 


brought him through the plastic season of infancy, 
unimpressed with the value of this peace-making 
quality; for my ownpart^ I feel assured^ that educa- 
tion might commence, even from the cradle,. The 
disposition and temper might be in a state of improve- 
ment while intellect was dormant; for, as a learned 
and truly amiable writer iias observed; '^ The mind 
is originally an unsown .field, prepared it may be for 
the reception of any crop ; bijt, if those to whom the 
culture of it belongs, neglect to fill it with good grain, 
it will speedily and spontaneously be covered with 

But, as / have avowed myself a friend to order, let 
my practice prove my sincerity. I have many letters 
to answer, I must hasten tp the performance of my 

( 66 ) 


<* If T ■m rightr thy grtLce impart 
IStUl in the right to stay t 
If I am Dvrongy Oh teach my heart 
To find that better ^ay.'* 

In conformity to my avowed love of order ^ the let- 
ter of Jenny Bennet was the fir^t to which I replied* 
It was not my wisli to encourage servants in betraying 
the secrets of families, though I certainly did not re- 
gret that an opportunity had occurred, which, by 
touching on the hianners^of children towards these 
humble friends, gave me an opening for a few obser- 
vations. But as t imparted my real sentiments on 
this subject, in my epistolary correspondence, I 
will submit them to my youcrg friends verlatm. 


To Mrs. jEtTNY Bennet. 

I am very sorry to understand, by your letter, that 
yoiir situation in the family of Mrs* Murdock is uncom- 
fortabie« You are mistaken, in supposing that the 
Miss Murdock's are hasty in their tempers, because 
they have lived in India. As amiable children come 
from that quarter of thc^ world, as from any other. The 
cruelty of Miss Louisa is very disgraceful to her 
character, and, I l^ave no doubt, but her mother will 
hear your complaint, and use proper means to prevent 
her repeating such a fault. I am very willing to be- 
lieve that you are civil to the young ladies under your, 
charge, and, as such, think you entitled to kind and 
considerate treatment from them. I am much 
ashamed of that very criminal sort of language they use 
towards you, and the weakness of ridiculing you dia- 
lect betrays much ignorance* If a regular, attention 
to the duties required from you, civil manners, and 
willingness to oblige, mark your conduct,' they have 
no right to complain. Young women in your rank 
of life, are not expected to understand Grammar, and 
it is only thoughtless and inexperienced children who 
would remark your deficiency in this resp^et. I per- 
ceive, by your letter,, that you are from Worcestershire'; 
and as, in a nursery, it is desirable that the servants 
should speak in a clear and usual dialect, I would 
advise you. to undertake some other office in the 
bouse, where you would be more likely to lose your 


present manner of speaking. And be spared the mor* 
tifications of which you now complain. 

I am, very sincerely. 

Your friend. 

Arabella Arc^us. 

To Miss MuRDOcK* 

Though I am hopoured' by the fcorrespondence of 
many young ladies,, I confess myself at a foss how 
to reply to the favour of Miss Murdock. Truth is too 
valuable to me to^ be yielded on any occasion, and ^ 
letter is, <rf all compositions, that which shoiild speak 
the exact fadings. Will you, after this fratnk confession^ 
forgive my candour, and receive my admonitions ? I 
mifst believe that you will, foi;, however the fliictua-' 
tiotts of the ycuthfufmind may induce error' or exhibit 
passion, T trust thet« are very few instances where 
fhey wholly tej^ct advice, or doubt the sincerity of 
those who evince themselves anxious for their hap- 
piness. Though in yonr letter you name the indul- 
gence of your mother, you seem to intimate that it 
is less now, than formerly 5 this is an indirect censure 
cast upon your parent, and, consequently, a breach 
<)f duty* You are not satisfied' with the manners of 
your servants ; ask ybur own heart, if your uniform 
conduct towards them deserves an attention more 
respectful than that which they shew you. That 
your niirsery-maid should be ignorant of grammatical 


propriety is not in the least surprising ; she speaks 
according to the custom of that county in which she 
was horn, and, it is most probable^ never received 
any rules for her language. Now you apprize roe 
that ma3ters attend you daily, and that your nerves 
are affected by the ignorance and manner of your ser- 
vant's speech. I am really afraid, that you have been 
more solicitous to discover the defects of others than 
to acquire knowledge for yourself; or how shall we 
account for the many errors, not only in your ortho- 
graphy and etymology; where the tenses of the 
verbs are so obviously misapplied : for instance^ writ 
for written ; say for said; send for :senf ; at India, in 
place of m India ; with many other improprieties 
inexcusable in a young lady, who is being taught 
daily> and who . is likewise a critic : but I must not 
omit the application of the objective pronoun me^ in 
lieu of the nominative L For the little errors of child- 
ren, in their first attempts at letter-writing, every 
allowance should be made, as to style, &c. but> for 
grammatical inaccuracies, their memories are to be 
blamed. Grammar being their first, and, next to the 
study of scriptural history, the most important, branch 
of education; for not to speak, and write your own 
language correctly, when you' are so happy as to have 
the advantages of good instruction, argues much in- 
attention, if not a weak mind; 

You appear to entertain unreasonable objections 
towards governesses ; I term them unrea8onsd>le, be- 


endeavour to love those whom be esteems ; — reject all 
news' which rs communicated binder the term of ^* a 

, secret ;" it rarely deserves the name, and frequartly 
leads to much anguish of mind. 

Those little domestic employments,' which the ten- 

* demess of your good father has permitted you to ex- 
ercise in bis family, are in themselves highly advanta- 
geous to you a? a female ; for to study '^ household, 
good,*' i^ an excellence in woman. Should the lady 
who you expect will be your mother, eventually fill 
that situation, . remember, it is your place to yield, to 
resign those offices, which, as mistress of your father's 
house, will become her fight. Yet, it is very pro- 
bable, she may discover your capacity in these points, 
and have much pleasure in increasing your little privi- 
leges : much more will depend upon yourself than on 
her, — you acknowledge that you did like her, and I 

. have too good an .opinion of your understanding, to 
suppose that you could be prejudiced against an old 
friend, merely because your father has thought proper 
to distinguish her, as the woman with whom he could 
be happy. I would advise you to use an early oppor- 
tunity, of talking on this subject with Mrs. Arnold; 
I imagine you may do so, without infringing your 
promise with Jones, as the event is, no doubt, gene- > 
rally expected ia the family. Perhaps your governess 
wisely ^waits your communication in this particular ; 
confide ?n her, and I am persuaded you will not only 
relieve your njind, but acquire a certain portion of 



comfort, in looking forward to the protection of aft 
amiable mother as you advance in life; and Mrs. Ar- 
nold appears^ from your descriptiont a friend, capable 
of directing your mind, to a just understanding of ail 
that relates to your happiness* 

When your father shall condescend tomakeyms 
his friend, by apprising you of his intentions^ do not 
hesitate to express your sorrow, at having exhibited 
•uch visible, though iilenif opposition to his wisheir 
— he will leceive it as a proof, not only of duty, but 
good sense ; and to the lady, observe an uniforni and 
kind attention, which, I am fully persuaded, will lead 
to the happiest result ; — continue to cherish the me- 
mory of your own n[v>ther, reflect on all her admoni'* 
tions, and apply yourself to the practice of them with 
attention ; what one good and amiable woman has^, 
suggested, can never prove objectionable to another. 

On your nurse, continue to bestow those little 
marks of kindness which are her due, as the protector 
of your helpless infancy, — ^but do not, by any means, 
accustom yourself to habitual intimacy with any ser- 
vant, — ^all that is kind, benevolent, and generous, may 
be performed towards these deserving and useful 
friends, wilho«!t familiarity^ which 2zsz/a^/^ leads them 
into error^ and certainly destroys our claim to their 

The unreasonable length of my letter, proceeds 
from the strong interest I take in your happiness, txt^ 
it will give me sincere pleasure, if my advice aoiiiata 


in restoring your tranquillity. You were very right in 

observing, that ' ^^ many children have nK)re cause to 

repine than yourself; -'-^it must be so, foryour'sare 

imaginary troubles, and numberless little orphans 

might be found, whose sad and desolate fate, would 

cause you to blush at having anticipated gdrrow. Con* 

•rider, my dear child, that lifife is transient ; - and that 

to pass through our allotted term wholly exempted 

lirom trouble is impossible; that there is a season 

for all things ; youth is the season pf joy,^ embrace 

it while in your power; and let gratitude, for those 

blessings bestowed upon you, dispose your heart to 

. cheerfulness, which is the handmaid of innocence. 

With perfect esteem for your character, and a firm 

reliance ,'On your just claim to happiness, by endea* 

vouring to deserve it, 

I remain your very, sincere, 

and much interested friend, 

Arabella Argus. 

To Timothy Testy, Esquire. 

Though I have announced myself as the professed 
correspondent of children^ your letter claims my 
thanks, as imparting some just matter for animadver- 
sion.: You will excuse me if I add, that the obliga- 
tion must be mine, as I cannot possibly find time for 
answering the letters of grown persons, though I 


shall be obliged by their communications. You mukt 
likewise forgive me> when I avow that I do not agree 
with you, as t6 the comparative manners of children 
now and in the days of our youth. Very few general* 
rules are applicable; ther^ will. always be much to 
do for children^ and there has certainly been much 
done for them ; I sometimes think too much, for we 
have been seeking new methods, and new models^ 
while the fundamental principles of all virtue^ and all 
happiness, have ever been within bur grasp, in the 
iQild precepts and pure ei^ample of Christian revela- - 
tion. No specific rule can possibly be recommended 
in the education of children^ whose dispositions are, 
as various as the flowers of the field j but there is not- 
a defect or perfection in human nature for which 
the God of nature has not provided some ensample 
t^t should guard the erring; some reward, which^ 
diould animate the virtuous. It is while we neglect { 
this merciful mediation, between mortal andimniar-. 
tal judgment, that we betray our blindness, and, with > 
wilful ignoraixce, seek a liew path. I^hall receive^ 
. your further communications with, pleasure^ ^nd an^, 

Very respectfully, sir. 

Your obedient servant, 

' Arabella Argus. 

Having dispatched my letters, I felt^ ajl that ease 
which results from performing our appointed duties. 
} was now, at liberty to think, so true it is, that wbilf 

76 JUVENlL* 8P«CTAT0lt. 

the mind is clogged by obligations of any sort, it rt 
impossible that our actions should be free and unre- . 
strained, ' As this feeling is not individual^ or peculiar 
to any season of iife. It has often surprized me, when 
^ have heard; persons, whose independent situations in 
society have platted them at iiberty to dispose of their 
time as they please; — to hear such persons, I rejieat^ 
lamenting that they are oppressed by the variety ef ' 
their iivocations, is truly ridiculous; 

These imaginary inconveniences, even children affect, 
J have seen them surrounded by their books, pausing 
first on one, and then on another ; and by the con- 
ftision which they are active in producing, destroying 
the -necessary preliminary to study, method And now 
that I am speaking of lessons, I cannot fbrljc^ar to 
remark on the manner in which these portions are 
sometimes acquired : it is hardly necessary, to say ' 
bow they should be learned, every child of sense gives 
a due proportion of time to die subject th^t is appoint- 
ed for her attainment ; not only because it is appointed 
for her, but that she aspires to excel, and would not 
be satisfied to perform any thing ill ^ which by a little 
application might be well performed. But I have seen 
children rolling the leaves of their books, while they^ 
pretended to be engaged by their lesson: — playing 
with the ribband which marks their places, and reckon* 
ii)g every repetition, as reducing the number of those 
readings, which they purpose to bestow on the les- 
$Qn,. Is it possible, that such taskS; can be well 


learned^ wi^ere the thoughts and the actions ar^ so 
much at variance ? or^ can a limited number of 
readings perfect all lessons ) I grant, that the percep- 
tion of some children is very acute, that they learn with 
xAuch facility. Yet it sometimes happens^ that they 
forget Vfrry easily, and when this is perceived, by those 
iHfho instruct them, I can by no means accede to that 
petulance, which sometimes shews itself, at theif 
memories being exercised frequently, and not on fixed 
days. It is very natural to suppose that those whc 
"^ ieachy possess more knowledge than their pupil$, and 
that their motives for exacting attention, in any* point, 
would bear* the strictest scrutiny; but it is not the 
part of the pupil to arraign or judge those motives 
nor yet to oppose the wishes of the iustructriess. 

The task of rearing and teaching the infant mind has 
been defined a pleasing and delightful task. I know 
it is possible to make it such; but then a mutual es- 
teem, and mutual assistance, must actuate the teacher 
and the scholar. 
QAiintilian observes on this subject, 

** But let none imagine it poisible to become Ie4rned by tbclabovr 
^jA another.** 

. « 

This, from the comprehensive term learned^ seems 
to apply to' boys only; yet it may very properly be 
transferred to girls, as every advancement in know- 
ledge is prbduced by learnings and the capability of 


~ the female mind camiot be doubted, wHilc we catb 
'refer to the respected names of a Carter, k Talbot, or 
a Montague.* But that wisdom can be attained, with- 
out exertion, is an idea which none but the weak, and 
' the idle can possibly entertain. The very advantageous 
and happy domestic friendships which exist, more es- 
pecially between girls and their instructresses^ may 
certainly, by mutual attention, be made productive 
of lasting and most beneficial consequences. But, 
unless a child can esteem^ as well as respect her gover- 
ness, the happiness of each is destroyed. If lessons 
are considered punishments, though recommended 
' for their usefulness j if an anxiety to do only an equal 
portion of business every day, supersedes that grace- 
ful and hopeful thirst for knowledge, inseparable from 
true genius, I repeat, where these defects arc evident, 
the teachers task, not only becomes irlcsome, but 
altogether hopeless. Let it be remembered, that 

** Nothing 18 easy without previous toU/* 

That / 

^ Ten thousand labours must concur to raise exalted excellence.*^ 

And that, unless we are as sincerely disposed to 
learn , as our instructors are to teachf our time is lost^^ 
and our improvement impossible. To arrive at excel- 
lence is not in the power of every one, but there aro 

* Mrs. Montague. 


certain perfections^ to which the attention of children 
should be more particularly directed* The first, is 
to a strict and uniform compliance with the commands 
of their parents, and from this will proceed that most 
useful and salutary characterestic of a good mind^ 
^« the g(n;ernme7ii of the temper;" for children^ who 
obey their parents, must necessarily learn to yield, in 
many points. The affection and judgment of parents 
directing them frequently to counteract and interpose^ 
in numberless instances, where acquiescence would 
Upt only injure their children, but, by increasing their 
self-will, make them arbitrary and unmanageable. 
With amiabk And well-disposed children, the wishes 
of a parent are as commands. Nothing is more pain&l 
to a parent, than to be forced to make duties appear 
difficult ; yet there are cases, in which such ap- 
pearances, must exist, and to some of the causes^ 
which produce this ungraceful portrait of life, I shall 
dedicate a future Chapter. I cannot withhold one * 
general remark ; which is, that the child, who is 
dutiful and attentive* to the wishes of her parents, al- 
ways carries this beautiful humility into every action 
of her life : it influences her manner towards her in* 
feriors ; it leads her to respect the aged and consider 
their comforts ; she is alive to the be§t impressions 
from good reading, because the best books always 
inculcate moral virtues ; and she w^o begins by duty, 
will undoubtedly receive delight and improvement 


from tlie perusal of that which is calculated to exalt 
her mind. . But, while I am anxious to impress the 
beauty and amiability of such a character on theminds 
ofmyreaderSy I wish it to be. tinderstood, that these 
perfections are not showy, that they are usually the 
possession ©f retired children ; of cbifldren who are 
cheerful without rudeness; studious without aflfecta- 
lion; methodical without vanity or preciseness; In 
. shorty they are peculiar jto children who^ considering 
themselves les5 wise than their parents^ submit to be 
directed^ and consequently attain^ not only the ap- 
probation of their delighted parents^ but^what is infi- 
nitely superior, the favour of God. I cannot conclude 
more appropriately than in the words of the royal 
Psalmist, ^^ Them that are meek shall he guide in 
judgment; and such as are gentle, them shall he 
learn his way.*' 

( 81 ) 


*Tif something to advance a little way. 


A note from my daughter, which was laid on vtxy 
breakfast-table next mornings awakened ray mater- 
nal feelings very sensioly. She requested my presence 
as j^rly as possible, intimating, that her '' spirits^ 
were much depressed, at the idea of William's depatf- 
ture for — - — school/' I was pleased, that a deter- 
mination so essentia} to the advancement of my gFand- 
son had been resolved upon ; . yet the ill health of hi» 
mother gave me real tineasiness, well knowing that 
her attachment to her children wa» more than ordi- 
narily tender* 4 hastened to street, and found 

them, as I expected, deeply engaged in the concerns 
of the young adventurer. WiUiam seemed lb recrarct 
his removal, as a matter which was to impress hina 
with much consequence, he was giving orders and 
contradicting tbem in the next moment. He declared 



the girls were very teazing, and would not let any of 
his things alone ; while all the dear little creatures were 
producing their treasures, and offewng the so*long- 
valued bauble, as a keepsake to their brother. *^ Only 
think, grandmamma^" said WilKam, " even Lucy has 
given me this ;*' and he exhibited a dollar, in a 
high state of preservation* I saw the child blush, 
and a tear trembled in her eye, .*^Lucy is very right, 
in making you this present,'* said I,^^but she does not 
mean it for a keepsake, she expects you will use it ; 
and I beg that you will let Lucy and I know how you 
spend this dollar ;- we shall both learn something by 
the communication, I shall discover what degree 
of prudence^ attaches to my grandson, and Lucy will 
acquire a knowledge of some of the purposes tp which 
money may be applied." 

The sudclen decision of my daughter, In favour of 
a public school, had taken rise in her observations, on 
the solid acquirements, and pleasing manners of some 
youths educated on the foundation ; and a letter from 
Capt. Mordaunt, intimating his wish that William 
should be placed at school, arriving just after this' 
favourable impression, she had immediately proceeded 
on the necessary arrangements, and only one day now 
rejjiained ere he was to be removed to ^ . 

I was not so successful as I had hoped to be, in 
reconciling Mrs. Mordatint to the separation ; she 
was full of fears for his health, and very copious in 
her cautions and advice; to all of which, Williana 
was affectionately attentive, and as I perceived him 


ready to promise a great deal^ I checked the intended 
obligations. ^^ You are now entering on a new scene^ 
my dear boy,'* said I, ^^ and will eiigage in inimberless 
avocations of which, at present, you are wholjy igno- 
rant. The first going to school, is aa epoch in the 
life of boys to which too much consideration can- 
not be given. If your view of school-business con- 
veys only the idea x)f liberty, an escape fron[i certain re- 
strictions, &c. you will find yourself deceived ; you 
must earn that liberty so pleasant and, junder due 
linaitation, so advantageous to youth. I have never 
observed any very remarkable instances of disobe- 
dience in your character ; some little irritability, and 
a few opinions contrary to those of your mother, have 
certainly fallen.under my eye ; I am witling to impute 
these to waut of judgment, you must be sensible, that 
a parent has every claim to your duty and gratitude ; 
Iknow you will be called upon to take part in sporty 
and pastimes, quite contrary to your previous habits ; 
to some of which, ja degree of danger is very probably 
attached : do not, from a false idea of courage, aXr, 
tempt the performance of any thing beyond your 
powers 5 your failure will lead to certain contempty 
while your succes* can produce no lasting advan- 
tage. There is a species of courage, to which, if 4' 
boy aspires, he must ultimately attain the desired 
good, — ^ the knowledge of himself :' for he who 
knows himself will not seek false honors. He will led to perform au act, on which he dares not 


, • • . 

reflect by all that the most eloquent of his associates 
can say in praise of things^ trifling, if not vicious ;, 
he will select for his companions^ such boys^ as are^ 
most worthy, who are alws^s to be discovered^ by 
their pursuits ; for the tilfe are never foand in the path 
which !ea(}s to wisdom ; nor the vicious^ in favour 
with those, whom learning delights. Reflect ou 
your home with grateful arid affectionate feelings; recur 
to the tenderness of your parents with delight ; remem* 
ber their injanctions, their advice; endeavour, and 
Heaven will favour ^roar attempt, to unite those reli- 
gious observances which have fed yon happily through 
jiolftncy, in a(I the simpFicity and innocence of child^ 
hood ; unite these, I repeat, to your ntew and increas- 
ing studies ; the task will be practicable, and the 
conscious peace, that so amiable a discharge of your 
duty will produce on your mind, will be a reward, to 
which nothing I could say on the subject would do 

William listened to me with silent and respectful 
attention, and I was delighted to observe his manner 
towards bis mother, whose tears had claimed his no- 
tice ; he had thrown hi^ arm round her neck, and was 
kTRSing the tears from her cheek, — '^My dear mother,** 
said he, *< shall I not be your son in every place; I 
%m almost certain, that I shal) think of you more often 
at school than I do now, and I witt write to you pvery 
week, and tell you exactly wfiat I do/' ^* That will 
indeed be a comfort to me^*^ said his BK)tber^ 


JVrtmtn SPECTATOK. $5 

*' an4 my dear /boy, never conceal even an error from 
9ne^ I shall be willing to make every allowance for 
the foibles of youth, but I can .accept- no apology 
which estranges you from my heart.^ 

I was forced to combat that softness whicfa^ was 
actually stealing to my heart, lest we should depress 
the boy too much. ** William will not forget this 
day,*' said I, with a smile ; ^^ he must indeed reflect 
on it with much satisfaction, and a little laudable 
vanity may justly mix in his recollection ; we have 
certainly given him some idea of his own consequence 
by the value we have attached to his conduct, and the 
affection we have so unequivocally displayed ; I trast^ 
he will do ,credit to our anxiotis zeal, by respecting 
himself,, and continuing to )ove those who k>ve him 
so well/' 

** I am sure I am very sorry he is going,'* said 
Harriet, with a sigh. ** I hope we are all sorry,'' re- 
plied Fanny ; " but I dare say William will be very 
happy at school.'^ I observed that these artless remarks 
made ihe child serious, and, proposing a walk to 
the little folks, we proceeded towards Hyde-Park, 
As we were walking across from jGrovesnor-gate, Miss 
Osborn and her governess. Miss Watson, overtook 
us ; the latter, courtesying to me, was passing on ; but, 
perceiving ^in the countenance and manner of Miss 
Osborn, that diffidence so becoming in children, mo/e 
especially girls, I held out my hand and enquired if 
she had forgotten me. ^^ No ma'am/' said the child, 


with a look of modest confusion^ " indeed I have not,i' 
"Miss Osborn is growling a very amiable young 
lady, madam,** said Miss Watson, who continiied 
walking by my side. '^ I am now so happy in her so- 
ciety that I should be very sorry to quit her/*" I im- 
mediately introduced the children to each other, for 
the girls were unacquainted with . the Osborns, and 
Miss Watson and I entered hito conv,er3ation. She 
informed me, that the General bad been so seriously 
displeased by the condupt of his son as to have conr 
fined him to his room for some days; that Lady Lisr 
ton made her promised visit, and in the most lenient 
terms, made her just com plaint-against him.; that the 
erring boy, .first denied the charge, but, upon bein^ 
closely questioned by his father j. was brought to avow 
the truth. '* I do not' perceive that the modes used with 
Master Osborn have effected raucji improvement as 
yet,*' continued Mis? Watson, "bi^t he^ ingoing to 

school to morrow, where,I hope, he wilj acquire 

steadiness of character, at present his most predomi- 
nant defect.'* . . ^ . 
I was really sorry to learn that. Charles: Osb"orn^ 
was going to the same school as William, yet a 
second thought dissipated the unpleasant feeling; there 
must ever be a variety of dispositions, in all mixed 
societies; a school is a minor theatre, which is to fit 
the b©y for the larger and less virtuous s^cene of action, 
the^ World. If in this exercise of his reason, he plays 
his part judiciously, by . selecting from the few, a 


well-chosen company^ he can hardly fail to make a 
cautious arrangement, when his faculties are improved ^ 
and his knowkdge of characters more comprehensive. 
Miss Watson, with an amiable regard to her little 
charge, now acquainted me, that from the day of our 
meeting in Kensington Gardens, her pupil had ex- 
pressed all those praiseworthy regrets (natural to an in- 
genuous mind), at the impropriety of her conduct, both 
' as 'regarding her governess and the impression it mu&t 
have made upon. me. *' I scarcely ever saw shame 
so amiably evident,'' continued Miss Watson, ^'and 
so indefatigable has beien the desire of Miss Osborn, 
to attain my favour, that. she almost anticipates my 
purposes by the activity of her zeal." This culogium 
was indeed most 'pleasing to me, and here my gene- 
ral observation was truly applicable : while Charlotte 
Osborn was untaught, her manners were bold and 
assuming ; the moment she became sensible of the 
value of learning, her deportment was timiil and be- 
coming. How just is that remark so often quoted* 
'^Modesty is one of the chief ornaments of, youth,; 
and has ever been esteemed a presage of rising merit.'' 
Convinced that my daughter would be anxious fqjr 
our return, we bade adieu toMi§s Osboraand her gover- 
ness, and turned towards home. ^^ How-very well be* 
haved Miss Osborn is to-day," said WHliam, " she 
was not quite so polite when I saw her at Ken- 
sington;'' I agreed with my grandson in thinking , 
her improved. ^^Lady Liston did go to Charl^ 


Osbom's fatther," continued William, ^ his sisfer, 
has been telling me so/' •* Did you enquire about 
it ?" I asked. He replied ii» the afSraiative, M^hich 
proved satisfactory to me ; as few things could have 
lowered a child so much in my opinion, as that of 
reposing the disgrace of her brother. From this una- 
miable trait of character, the little Charlotte was 
fully exculpated ; sh& had merely replied to the ques- 
tions addressed to her by WiVliam* and these not so 
copiously as to have increased his deserved hmsilia- 
tion. *^ I cannot help thinking/* rejoined Willliamy 
after a serious pause, <^ how alarmed Charles Osborn 
must have been when Lady Liston was announced ; 
all his courage forsook him I dare say/' ^'There can 
be no doubt of that,*' I replied. " It was hot courage, 
but insolence, which influenced his manner towards 
her ladyship. And that is a quality quite distinct 
from courage, and one which always shrinks to insig« 
nificance,' when openly and dispassionately reproved.** 
*^ How I rejoice,^' said William, '^ that I did not join 
with himthatday ; he tried to advise me to do so.*' **I 
hope in this case,** cried I, ^* that your inclination 
was not in the least that way disposed, but I certainly 
approve of your firmness; always dare to think for 
yourself in such points ; it argues much weakness of 
understanding, to be led into degrading situations, 
merely because an illiterate and captious companion 
has pleasure in such scenes; nor does a disposition of 
this sort stop here; a captious and insolent boy 


usually makes a presummg and qaarrelsome man^ 
and there is not in socMty a more unamiable acquaint* 
ance or dangerous companion/' 

As I expected^ we found Mrs. Mordaunt regarding 
our approach from the balcony. I merely waited to 
deliver my dear little treasures into the hands of 
their mother^ and give my blessing to William ^ and 
then retired to my own house. 

I have before expressed my disapprobation ^f pre- 
sents^ which^ in fact^ deserve another name ; they are 
bribes^ consequently^ my young friends will not be 
surprised that I suffered my grandson to depart to 
school^ without receiving one from me; yet, I 
thought that the dear boy seemed to expect suefa a 
mark of my esteem, for he had fehown me all the 
various gifts of a very numerous acquaintance on this 
occasion, in a way which led me to conjecture, that 
my mite was wanting, but a remark of Lucy's would 
have deterred me from so doing, had I even pro- 
jected it. ^* Ought William to cry, grandmamma/' 
said the child, ** when he goes away to-morrow ; only 
see what a great many presents he has got/' *^ I hope 
he will cry," said I, " for I should be very sorry, 
my dear Lucy, that all hid acquaintance had con- 
spired to harden his heart." ^' My dear grandmo- 
ther," replied William, taking a seat by my side, 
** you have such a way of making trifles seem trifles^ 
that I never know whether to value a thing till you 
have seen it/' <« What a flattering boy,'* said I* 


smiling; " I bfilieve you will be writing to mie soon*, 
instead of the Spectator'^ ** I will write to you cer- 
tainly/' rejoined my grandson, ^' but I must not 
forget old Spec, ; I really like the old woman, though 
she took me to task a little ; yet I mvist own there was 
a good deal of truth in what she said, but I must mind 
next time, and not use any words she can catch at^ 
for she seems very particular/' This recollection had 
been what I wished to produce, being very anxious to 
have his communications, when at a distance from 
his family; but I was fixed in my purpose, and, as 
I have before related, did not make my grandson any 
present. *' I am very glad this cross old woman is 
not my grandmother'* says one of my little readers. 
** I wonder" what .would be the use o^ dding one's 
best/' says another ; •* to be sure she is vastly good>' 
now, that she cannot eat sweet things herself y* adds 
a third ; *^ but really I think this Mrs, Argus a very 
troublesome old woman ; perhaps some of our friends 
may think her plan a good one, and we shall be de- 
prived of all the nice things which we used to get." 

I am prepared, as you will perceive, to meet the 
disapprobation of a few ; but I will not believe that I 
shall be left in the minority : it cannot be, for I am 
not writing to baliesy but children, who have, I trust, 
been in the habit of exercising their reason ; and would 
consequently, be offended, with the person who- 
should address them, as though they were yet the inha- 
bitants of the nursery. 




I know it is so easy to acquire a taste for •' nice 
things,*' as they are called ; and this taste, though 
apparently of no consequence in early youth, is so 
capable of deforming the human character, that I " 
know not how to mark my disapprobation of this 
fault", in language suflSciently strong. I have wit- 
nessed the effects of this selfish principle, in many of 
its disfiguring and various stages. I have seen child- 
ren so anxious to taste good things, that they des- 
cended to become thieves; in order to eat st spoonful 
of jelly, or pick a corner out bf a cake. I have known 
them, with an indelicacy unpardonable, fix upon that 
dish actable of which there was the least in quantity. 
I have heard such exclamaticins of joy, when a nicte 
dish, according to their idea, was placed upon the 
table, that I have-been astonished how they could 
betray themselves so disgustingly ; and, above all, 
I have seen these things pass unnoticed, by those wh6 • 
had a right to speak arid to reprove this unfortunate 
tendency, for, that this quality, generates to conse*- • 
quences truly unfortunate, requires' Very little ai-gu^ 
ment, to establish. The person who is devoted 
to the good things of this world is anxious fo?r 
their attainment, and, to please his appetite, will 
yield his time, to his taste: art epicure is the nioit 
selfish of all animals ; generosity is a stranger to his 
nature, and for what, is^ he thus solicitous ? If he 
gratifies his palate, the pleasure • is transient v but 
let him remember, that gluttony has been denounced 

9« JUVENILE spectator; 

an offence to God ; — and^ if this fails to reclaim him, 
let him be convinced^ that the constitution is. under- 
mined by gross feedings and that premature age, if 
not deaths is the certain consequence of this odious 

You must know^ for you are the peculiar favourites 
of God's mercy, who, in making you capable of 
reasoning, hath placed you above all the works of his 
hands ; — ^you cannot be strangers to this mark of di* 
vine favour. Let me caution you, my Tuile friends, 
against a vice so destructive as that of gluttony ; — I 
trust it will be easy to persuade you, that it ft a very 
unamiable indulgence, and under that term, more 
likely to fix your attention to the' understanding of 
my meaning. We naturally attach to the characters 
and dispositions of youth, a softness, which seems 
natural to their age, and there is no epithet in the En- 
glish-language, which I should feel so much inclined 
to bestow upon children, as that of ^' amiable :'* — it 
conveys a great deal of meaning ; — I could imagine it 
to imply *' gentleness,** *^ humility," *^ modesty/* 
*' truth," and ^^ intelligence/* Now, let me ask, if 
these qualities could unite in an epicure^ a glutton? — 
Impossible ;-^they are social virtues, the feelings na- 
tural to a generous mind ; and a glutton lives only for 
himself, nor ever gives, but when satiety obliges him 
to become abstemious. And if a laudable ambition 
actuates your mind, if you wish to acquire knowledge, 
re§t assured^ that moderation in your dietj is a strong 




stiniulus to learnings and not all tlie sweets that the 
storeroom of the housekeeper could produce^ nor yet 
the nice cakes of your grandmothers or your godmo'- 
thers^ will ever compare with that delightful, and al- 
ways attainable feast^ a taste for learning. To that 
repast, observe how many great and virtuous charac« 
ters invite you; it is true> they expect you to bring 
your ticket of admission, that is, attention ; butj. if 
you go into their society, thus prepared, your glean- 
ings are certain* Sacred history offers to your ex- 
panding mind, the precepts for your guide through 
life, with such examples of divine mercy, as shall 
lead you to the practice of virtue^ in order that you 
;inay " hope all things :" — while, in the less authentic 
pages of ancient and modem histoiy, the ambition 
and discontent of mankind^ will teach you tlie insuffi- 
ciency of all worldly considerations. These are solid 
viands^ from which a literary taste must make a 
wholesome meal. Geography, Natural History, and 
Poetry, make a second course, which I do not refuse 
to any who seek this sort of food ; — nay,' I will per* 
mit a desert to follow in these cases, because I think 
such epicures deserve a litde indulgence. The best 
written and least marvellous fiction, should be given 
to these, my rational young friends, with one, and 
only one, restriction, — not to devQur it too greetiily, as ' 
there is very littlcv nourishment in them, and conse- 
quently they will not be brought to table often. , 


( 94 ) 


*< Though I were perfect, yet would I not presume.** 

" To shun allurements is not hardj 

<< To minds Resolved, forewarned, and w^ll prepar'd.* 

Though Miss Watson had, with much leniency, 
denominated Charles Osborn's chief defect of cha- 
racter to be his want of steadiness, I was not disposed 
to coincide in this opinion, more especially, when I 

* ♦ 

heard he had attempted to deny that he had been im- 
pertinent to Lady Liston. - ,, 

I was glad he did not persevere in this most serious 
crime, but there really appeared to me so many 
shades of character in this boy, that I was led to con- 
sider the probable effects his occasional society might 


produce on my grandson. It is so essential to the 
virtue and happiness of children, that they should as- 
sociate with those only who are well disposed ; and it 
unfortunately happens^ . that some of the foibles of the 
vicious^ are of a nature to raise a sipile on the features 
of a youthful observer, while an experienced and re- 
flecting Spectator, will discover the lurjking mischief^ 
and tremble for those who/ are exposed tp the insi- 
dious deception. All these. considerations, I repeat, 
pressed so on my mind, that I confess I was very 
anxious to btar.from William Mordaunt* I was not^ 
however, gratified inmy speCtatorcW^cbLSLTaLCieT : a few 
hasty line^j addressed to his mother, in which w^re 
some kind remembrances to myself, was all that I re- 
ceived for some days ; but in the interim I was not 
idle, nor did some other of my correspondents neg- 
lect me, — ^The first letter which engaged my atten- 
tion, was one from Mr. Testy; it deserves a place in 
this my miscellany, and it shall have one. 

To Mrs. Argus. 

More miseries, my dear madam ; I shall certainly 
retire from society, unless I find that the publication 
of your intended volume has some effect upon these 
young totiiientors. You are very right; all our 
searches after a new system of education, are super- 
fluous : — what does the excellent Father Gerdi) say on 
this subject ? 

" Suffer not, ye parents^ the deceitful bait of a 


gaudy novelty to seduce you. Be cautious of trying 
on your children^ the dangerous experiment of a me- 
thody not yet warranted by success. Let the holy 
maxims of our fpre£8ithers> maxims so venerable for 
their authority and , antii)uity^ be always present be* 
jfore your eyes." 

But I must not intrude upon your time : excuse me, 
nadam, I fear I am prolix, but really I am greatly an- 
noyed At this moment ;—^ lady, my cousin, with two 
little plagues, whom she calls ^^ sweet, dear little 
cherubs," arrived two evenings since, at my house, 
and, sans cerefnonie, declares she is come to spend a 
week with me. Now I roidly esteem my cousin, and^ 
had she come alone, should have been sincerely glad 
to stt her ; indeed, had her children been tractable, I 
.niight have borne with them. My house is* always 
kept in neat order, without that troublesome sort of 
liicety, sometimes to be seen in thp houses of bachelors. 

But my cousin is unfortunately the mother of two 
geniuses^ and they must not be checked in an^ of their 
wild careers. I proposed, with my usual attention to 
comfort, that the little ones should make a nursery of 
the housekeeper's room. *« No such thing ; they are 
never to be in the company of a servant, and, if pos- 
sible, to be brought up without & knowledge of these 
distinctions of persons.'.' I stared : '* What do you 
act thenui'se, the tutoress, and mother?" said I. My 
cousin smiled with a look of self-importance, and de* 
dared she was« I own I was much surprised, as she 


« is a young woman, and^ till lately, accustomed to a 
London life. The next morning, at breakfast, I had 
some specimens of their genius which by no means 
suited my taste. The elder boy, on a sudden, un- 
covered the tea-urn to see what quantity of steam it 
contained. In vain I expostulated^ and reminded 
him £>£ the danger to which he exposed himself. He 
laughed at me, ^^ What do you think I do not know 
that hot water will scald,^' said he. Now this might 
foe very reasonable, but it was certainly rather rude. 
^^ I like the water to be kept boiling," said I. 
. '^ You are not a philosopher, cousin,*' said my little . 
reasoner. I own I waa father: surprised at the for* 
wardness of the boy, but before I could reply to him 
bis mother exclaimed in an extasy, 'f Is he not a pro- 
digy ?' ' '^ I cannot teO yet,*' I replied, *^ the plap, is 
new to me." Well, the breakfast was removed, and 
now 'a race, with my chairs turned down for horses, 
was projected by theseyoung Nimrods. In vain 1 in* 
terposed, and requested that the trial might take place 
in some other apartment. < They had set off, and no-> 
thing I said hs^ the least effect. I^ turning one of these 
wooden horses, a jar of considerable value in my esti<^ 
mation, because it was my mother's, was forced from 
its quiet station under a card-table, hurled with event-* 
ful velocity into the middle of the room, and there, 
woeful to relate, .it divided into three pieces. ^^ I can 
mend it," said one of my yoimg plagues^ and he in- 
I stantly rang the bell and ordered a saucepan full of 


BiflVy and sonve cotton or packlhresul to be brought to 
him* I positively counteracted this, and declared, 
that any experiment he chose to try, must be perform- 
ed in Mrs. Bond's room. I thought my practical phi^ 
losopher seemed to regard me with contempt, at which ^ 
I felt a little indignant i but the boy retiring with my 
valet, f suppressed my feelings, and turning to my 
cousin, asked her, ** what superior happiness she pro- 
mised herself in her mode of education?'* *^ Every 
thing is to he hoped," said she, *^ from a system in 
which reason takes the lead.'' ** I cannot agree with 
yoU|'' I replied. *^ I am not quite certain that the 
reason of your children has not subjugated, if not 
wholly destroyed, all those loveiy t^ts of character so 
essential to their happiness as social and dependent 
creatures. Where is that graceful and becoming qua- 
lity, diffidence ? That respect due to me as a stranger 
and their host ? That modesty which makes them slow 
to speak and timid in answering ?'* ^* My dear friend," 
replied my cousin, " all these things were very well half 
a century ago, but this is the age of reason." ** Pob, 
poll, Nancy," said I,. "I do not believe that there 
ever was a period in my life in which I could not have 
told you that hot ^Wter was hot water, and that it 
would blister «Ry skS^ and give me pain if I touched it 
incautiously; but I hppe my reason would never have 
led me to the impertbe^ce of arraigning the supposed 
ignorance of Any elders, t>or yet have prompted a bold- 
ness so conspicuous as that of deranging the furniture 


and destroying the property of those who entertauied 
me. I do not see that men or women are more happy» 
xnore virtuous^ nor yet more learned, by adopting any 
system which is to increase their vanity^ for vanity is 
' a great enemy to the attainment of sound reasoning." 
Whether I should have converted my cousin to my 
opinion is uncertain^ for a loud and universal shriek 
now reached our ears^ and a cry of fire echoed through 
the halL I ran down, and with real alarm discovered 
that the philosophers had set Mrs. Bond's chimney ox^ 
iire by having heaped an unnecessary quantity of fuel 
on the fire in order to expedite their china-mending , 

I turned these intruders from the apartment, and 
having seen the fire quenched, repaired to the drawipg- 
room. ** I have been telling the boys,^* isays my cou« . 
sin, '^ that you do not like experiments and persuading 
them to defer their attempts until we go home again.'* 
** I do not object to these things from any contempt of 
their utility," said I, " but I do not approve of such 
half-digested principles as those just exhibited. Could 
you suppose/* I continued, addressing the elder boy^^ 
<^ that you were correct in your application of this 
process of mending china, when the vessel in which 
you placed the broken article was not suffie'k*nily deep 
to guard it from the immense flames which played 
about the saucepan ?*' ^U never thought of that," said 
the boy, ** and indeed the fire frightened me so much 
that I did not take time to think.'* <' I am pleased,*^ 



continued I, ^^ when I see children direct their atten- 
tion to useful things ; the attempt in question is in it-> 
sielf highly so 5 but I would advise every child who 
practises! a thing of this sort to submit to be directed 
in his first essay. The loss of my jar I must regret, 
but the loss of my house would have been a serious 
eviU'* I saw that my cousin considered my remon- 
strance unkind^ while the boys looked rather abashed^ 
though certainly somewhat sullen. As this trouble- 
some trio are yet my guests, it is very, probable that 
some new illustrations of genius may fall under my 
observation ; in which case, I shall not fail to trouble 
you; but, in the mean time, let me beg of you to. 
take notice of these ebullitions of reason, which shoot 
out, and overwhelm modesty, respect and duty. I 
know it is usual to laugh at old bachelors, but, upon 
my word, madam, there is something vastly com- 
fortable in the sound of that simple worcl, duty, and 
whether it is from the length of time to which I re- 
fer and recollect who claimed this feeling of me, or 
that I esteem it for its antiquity and divine institution, 
of this I am certain that no new word, theoretically or 
practically used, can supersede it, unless it bring along 
\vith it its amiable and becoming practice. 

I am, dear madam. 

Your obedient servant, 
• Timothy Testy. 
The letter of Mr. Testy occasioned me some serious 


reSections; and, indeed, I so perfectly coincide in 
opinion with this gentleman, that I canilot resist de- 
lineating the feelings to which his lejtter gave rise. 

xl consider the present times as offering just cause 
for admiration in the many and ample elucidations of 
science and things, formerly hoarded only for the clo- 
set of the philosopher,. But as vanity ii an insidious, 
and almost inseparable foible of the inexperienced, 
too much care bannot be observed in the manner in 
which we introduce them to knowledge. 

It should be invariably inculcated, that wisdom is 
a store of which youth ought aever to be picodigal; ' 
for with whatever facility they learn, however accu- 
rate their perceptions, they will discover in each re- 
volving year, that they have yet much to learn, and 
that what they considered perfect, as their minds ex- 
pand, will bear corrections if not revision. I do aol 
by this wish to throw a damp on the lively and ardent 
6pirit8 of the young. Chearfulnees is a charm of cha- 
racter of which I am fully aensible, but there sre few 
things more generally reprehended than forwardness of 
manner. It matters not how this quality shows itself; 
whether in vaunting its knowledge, in disrespect to 
elders, or in contempt for those whom we think less 
wise I in either case vanity is the primary cajuse of the 
failing, and a foundation more perishable cannot be 

I have more than once witnessed the most humi- 
liating consequences follow a disposition of this sort. 


^nd though I certainly took part rn their feelings> and 
strove to lessen the portion of their shame by explain- 
Mig.the methods most likely to spare them a mortifi- 
eatipn of the kind in future, yet my memory, witk 
a justice due to m»de«t merit, was irresistibly im- 
pelled to revert to those families in which children, of 
an opposite character^ had won my e&teem and engaged 
my love. 

Mr. Testy's habits in life, as is obvious, are very 
regular ; consequently, he is more liable to be incom- 
moded by any innovation than persons accustomed to 
children. Yet, I am persuaded that many people zt^ 
feet indiifereDce to the intrusions of children who are' 
actually well disposed to be offended : and I blame 
this sort of acquiescence ; , it is suffering errors to gain 
an established ascendancy, and ultimately rearing 
pragmatical men and presuming women. 

There cannot possibly be a higher gratification, than 
that which we receive from the well arranged replies of 
children, of whom we seek inquiry. Every person is 
sensible of this, strangers as well as relatives ; nor 
are their inquiries less interesting, when dictated bj 
modesty, and preferred with an evident desire of gain- 
ing information : but I have heard children importu- 
nate to have an explanation, ami wholly inattentive 
.while that explanation was given. This Is a sort of 
pomp, which 1>etrays a very shallow understanding ; 
besides which, the engaging a person to take the 
trouble of instriTcting you in the most trivial pointy 


and not availing yoiwrself of their kindness^ i« » strong 
mark of ill manners* 

I am very much prrrpossessed in favour of those 
little experiments, so ably delineated by Mfss Edge- 
worth, and other kind friends of the young. Every 
thing which tends to the usefulness of Fife, is highly 
worthy of our consideration; — ^but there is a boldness 
in bringing ourselves forward upon all occasions. 

In the housei^ of your parents, in your fixed homes, 
the practical arcanum of childrens^ 4>hilosophy^ may 
be exemplified^ not only with propriety^ but much 
advantage to the attentive pupiL Wisdom of every 
kind is laudable, and they who begin to lay up-trea* 
s^ures in youth^ may hope^ in advanced life^ to reap 
the advantages^ always to be derived from internal re* 

I had the happiness of knowing an amiable child^ 
whom it pleased God to afHict with a most pain* 
ful rheumatic complaint: the disposition of my dear 
little friend was naturally lively, anrf^ in the inter- 
Tals of her pain, she was always remarkably chear- 
fill ; — ^but what chiefly leads to my speaking of her in 
this place is, to convince those for whom t write, that 
even in early life, it is possibk to lay up resources in 
the mind, which shall teach patience under affliction, 
and qualify even a youthful sufferer, to comfort those 
most interested in her fate. ^ 

Anna G— — was always particularly attentive to her 
prayers, which she not only repeated with becoming 


seriousness, but had taken much trouble to compre* 
bend. Her catechism was one of the duties, to 
which, all who beard her repetitioh, ever gave the 
most delighted approbation. Her manper was so mild 
and attentive, her enunciation so clear, and the punc- 
tuation (a most essential observance in this divine or«- 
dinance) so correct, that I may with fruth assert, she 
incited inany of h^r young companions, to give a more 
serious attention to this important duty, than all the 
previous instructions of their tutoress had been able 
to effect. I have seen her, when her younger sisters 
have been dancing, look on with all the admiration of 
a matured mind, that took pleasure in seeing the hap- 
piness of infancy. It is true, I have heard her say, 
she should like to have been able to join the group, but 
no vague regrets or pinings were her*s. The affection 
of Anna's friends, led them to present her with num- 
berless valuable toys and trinkets, which they ima. 
■gined would cheer her-sedentary life : she always re- 
ceived them with smiles, and expressed herself grate- 
ful for their attentions, but they could not engag.e her 
mind for any length of time. — ^* I ought to be grate- 
ful," said the dear girl, one day, " for every body is 
anxious to please and amuse me; but I have disco- 
vered, that sick people have only one comfort, one 
consolation 3 they must read the bible^ where all that 
they suffer will appear as trifling, when compared with 
what is told us there/' From this period, she had th^ 
scripture^laid on a table by her side^ and when a ^nofe 




than orditrary pain shook her .frame, she would turn 
to the book of Job, and read a chapter. There was 
• no display in her manner^ and it was only after a time^ 
that her most intimate friends could discover^ what 
reflebtions were produced from her $tudy. — *^ In all 
my pains, I have friends abeut me,*' said the sweet 
child, one evening, " and that is indeed a great com- 
fort ; and when I can eat, I need 6nly to expresa my 
wishe»« How many are sick, and have none to assist 
them, nor yet the power of getting any thing they 
fancy." As her weakness increased, and the medical 
men seemed hopeless, she took upon herself the office 
, of comforter to her parents. Frequently would a 
lively sally animate her intelligent counteiiance ; and 
•once she asked for a pencil, and sketched the scenerj' 
of hef chamber, pourtraying her parents, as frightened 
at the length of the doctor's bill; this she shewed to 
the gentleman himself, who fully comprehended her 
intention, which was, in fact, to raise the spirits 
of h^r parents. At length she was removed from 
this'^world, dying, as she had lived, patientand re- 
signed. I could not describe the deep regrets of her 
parents, who were long ere they regained their usual 
trtinquillity'5 but I bring her forward as one proof, that 
the really atniable qualities of the mind, are not of a 
showy or intrusive nature: and 1 would likewise wish 
to impress on my young readers, the conviction, that 
religious knowledge is of equal importance to the 
young, as to those advancefl in life 5 that its attaia- 

* F 3 


men! is as perfectly consistent with cheerful disposi- 
tions as with the gloomy and retired character ; and,, 
above all, I invite them to reflect on the conso- 
lation that a parent must m time acquire, when they 
contemplate the virtues of such ax:hild : ^'her pain 
and anguish has subsided,'' says the musing mother^ ^ 
^' I have lost a child, but she is gone to a father, wha 
loves all who tirust in him 5 who have borne his will 
with humility, aild, as far as earthly perfection ex- 
tends* have been invariably strict to his laws/' such 

was Anna C , a real character, one whom I loved^ 

with the mo^t sincere affection, and whose loss I as 
siocerely lamented, • 

I feel certain, that all who honour my book by a 
perusal, will readily enter into my opinion of the 
beauty of such a character 5 but it is not sufficient that 
we are capabte of admiring and dofng justice to virtue^ 
we should indeavourto follow an example so amiable* 
I have amongst others, given appropnate praise to the 
child who applied any useful principle to its destined 
purpose; have been pleased with a correct specimen 
of music, a well executed drawing, &c. but, that 
neither or all o£ these combined are of equal moment, 
or will bear any comparison, with a mind that makes^ 
^.ieligion th^ basis of its happiness, and from the sa* 
cred volume of all that is good, and worthy of regard,, 
draws guides tor every action in life, a very little ob- 
servation win confirm. The musiclesson, the draw*^ 
yiig. Sec live in the-memery of the bearer during the 


visit; wcniay recollect the performer and theartbf 
if we meet her, but an impression of early virtue is 
never effaced; we are interested for the child who has^^ 
evinced an excellence of the kind, we regard it as a 
blissful promise, and are anxious not to lose sight oi 
a mind which bears so fair a perspective. 

Thus, it is obvroas that what aretermed accomplish-' 
ments are, in themsehesy very unessential qualities ;: 
though they may be graceful ornaments^ yet their 
chief uses are that of occupying a vacant hour, andy 
by therr variety, giving an elasticity to the mind hrghly 
serviceable, and suitable to the period of youth, whichi 
always requires relaxation, but it is on the solid ac- 
quiren^ents that we pause. I record the character of 
my amiable little feiemlv as one that deserves remem- 
brance,, yet I might have added,, that she possessed many 
superficiair advantages-; but I was speaking of her a& 
a very supettior child^and I did not feelxhat such, trifles 
would have enhanced my sketch. 

I db not pretend to hold the mirror to boys ; their 
education usually places them beyond the sphere of 
women ; yet it was not always so :. mothers werq for- 
merly considered' the best early^ tutors of boys, jlvmM 
Buch of my readers as have dipped into ancient history 
will no doubt recolleetj^^ that the decline of some states- 
was dated from that period in. which women resigned 
this important office. You will perceive, my little- 
friends, that I am not disposed to be expUcit, in any 
ease in which your meoaories ought to elucidate fact^ 



I would rather that I awakened your curiosity, than 
checked your pursuits. If I could write as those ami* 
able matrons once iaught, thjere is no doubt but. I 
should grow eloquent upon the present occasion, and 
be tempted to contrast the analogy between philoso- 
phy and duty ; for as morality is blended in the pur- 
suits and attainments of the philosopher, we 'err 
deeply when we separate these natural and affec- 
tionate relatives* - 

I know you will enter into my feelir^gs, and some 
of you. will rejoice in the digression which circum- 
stances here oblige me to make < a letter is presented 
to me, and I recognise the hand-writing of my 
beloved grandson. Dear boy, but I must insert his 
epistle. ' 


, To Mrs. Argus. 


I hope this will be forwarded to you immediately^ 
as I am really much in want of your advice. I am 

now, at school, and have been here above a week; 

I like it very much, and should be quite happy if it 
was not for one reason* The boys here think women 
such ridiculous creatures that they always speak of 
ihem with derision : now I Iqve my mother and my 
grandmother dearly, and had promised to write to 
them often, but some of the boys have caught me, 
with my letter before me, just as I was beginning to 
write, and they quite laughed at me, and, whan 


they saw the words " dear mother," or ** dear grand- 
mother,'- they asked me how I had been able to Ieav<e 
home, and one of them brought me a piece of pack- 
thread, which he recommended "me to tie to my 
mothers apron, when next I saw her. I was so 
ashamed and vexed at this, that I put away my paper, 
and I am afraid my friends will be very uneasy at my 
silence. — But what can I do ? a boy who came to 
school on the same day that I did, has told them 
that laru a^neak; because I would not join him 
in affronting a lady one day in Kensington Gardens. 
I told Charles Osborn, that I chose to act for myself, 
but he made out such a ridiculous story about it, that 
I confess I am at a loss what to say. I hiave got* a 
chum, that is, a friend, already ; be is a nice feHow, 
but not very happy, for he has neither father nor 
mother, and his guardian does not have him home 
at every holidays. He tells me, not to mind them, 
but to do as I feel proper. !• believe he is right, yet 
I cannot bear to be laughed at. Charles Osborn is 
fag to a big boy, and he grumbles at it very much ; 
but I can assure you he is forced to obey, and gets 
many a thump, I was going to say, but I remember 
you found fault with that word, but indeed I should 
not like^the bruises he gets. 

I am so lucky as to be on that form which does not 
fagi anrd, as I recollect that my mother has paid a 
great dea! of money for masters to bring me forward 
in- my learning, I am very unhappy, for fear she 


should think me undutifuK Do pray write ta me 
directly, and If yoa say I ought to finish my letters^ 
I will not mind the boys, and> though you are a 
woman, I shaH be very much obliged to* you> and 
wiU certainly go by your directions* 

I remaifiy dear madam, 

Your's, sincerely, 


William Mohdaunt; 

P. S* I forgot to tfetr you,, that I dream of mjr 
mother every night, and she looked so- pale and un- 
happy, ir^ my dream last night, that I son very im* 
patient for your answer. 

Need I say, that my paper was mstantTy folded,* 
and my pen immersed in the ink, to answer this na- 
tural, - and truly interesting epistle. I saw the dangers- 
to which he was exposed with alarm, yet I owned 
much consolation in perceiving that bd had paused,, 
rather than consented to an erroneous and criminal 
imitation. My maternal heart was o\'ercharged by its 
solicitude, and^ while I ask the patience of my little 
friends to the epistle which follows, I will believe, that 
many of them possess in. their awn bosoms that ten- 
der affection for their relations, which shall lead them- 
to peruse a grandmother's letter, not only with a 
leniency for its author^ but an amiable interest ia 
its purport* 

'' 1 


To Master Mordaunt. 

Sir, ' 

I embrace the eacFiest opportunity of replying to^ 
you, conceiving, that you are in danger of losing, 
or rather of sacrificing, the most amiable trait in thehuw 
man character, iutfj to a' theory as wild as unsup-* 

I rejoice that you have been so wise as to pause, 
ere you rendered yourself so weak and unhappy, nor 
need I expatiate on the many iH eonsequences that 
must attend a conduct so unfilial, as I perceive you 
are tenderly conscious, that you are not acting up to 
your character as a son. Understand, that between 
false and proper shame,- there is a very distinct line » 
the former is the companion of the weak and cow- 
ardly mind, and leads to meanness, insolence, and 
falsehood, for though I perfectly comprehend, that 
those who retommend this system to you, appear very 
brave talkative sort of gentlemen, beHeve me, they 
could very easily be proved boys of the most, con- 
temptible dispositions, and uninformed minds.. Com- 
mon sense should dictate to every child in such a 
case. Can you suppose, that a few inexperienced boys, 
forming themselves into a society for the purpose of 
depreciating their earliest fnends and most tender pro* 
tectors, can find any just cause for this ridiculous 
9ort of vaunting, and, if they presuma to think it a 

laoly resolution^ how silly and blind they must be» 


Look around you^ regard the conduct of your fatljer, 
uncles, all your male connections, and you will inva- 
riably observe, that, towards females they are at- 
ientive obliging and affectionate. Thus, you' see, it 
is contrary to' their characters as men to adopt so ab- 
surd a whim ; they cannot support their affected prin- 
^ciples, for they have, no basis ; their insolence is ob- 
vious in their attenjpt, and it is kindness- to ascribe 
insincerity to their folly ; for to believe th^y act 
from internal feeling, is to consider them lower in 
the scale of created beings than the most untaught 

It may require some courage in a boy of your age, 
to combat the opinjons of these imperious directors, 
yet I am persuaded you have it in your power to 
come off victorious ; and, though I am no friend to 
contention in'any shape, I think the present deserves 
the title of an honourable battle : stand your ground, 
taking care to carry to the.field of action a cool manner 
and respectful language ; assure your opponents *^ that, 
as yet, you have every reason to' consider women as 
amongst tji^ best and kindest of your friends ; declare, 
with as much warmth ^^ yoxxv feelings dictate, that 
' you love your mother and your grandmother, and that, 
« until you can enter their society, like an honourable 
member, viz. fully believing in its rules and senti- 
ments, you must decline the distinction,'* 

Many, even of these boasters, will secretly ap- 
plaud your courage 5 some will laugh at you ; but if 


/ . ■ • 

you are afraid of a laugh, yel not afraid to'act the part of 
a hypocrite and deny your most virtuous feelings^ you 
are the victiiti pf false shame, and a total stranger to the 
only ^hame that a good mind should own«*the shame 
of committing an action on which we dare not reflect* 
It is pleasing to perceive by your letter that your heart 
is at present properly attached to home. But you must 
be alert, nor make one sacrifice to these, ill-judging 
blockheads.. Finish your letters and continue to think 
for yourself in all matters that relate to your duty ; 
while in those which belong to your studies be politely 
attentive to any information offered to your inexperi«- 
ence, and, in particular, I would advise you to shew 
a deference to your chum, who ha« vc^vinced bis good 
sepse by his manner towards you. I -dare say he 
would, gladly own a claim to the kindness of some 
good woman, who should think of him while absent, 
and endeavour to make his vacations chearful. Make 


no friendship with Charles Osborn until he reforms 
his manners ; but, at the same time, I would recom- 
mend you to live in peace with all your companions. 
Convince them that you are not to be shaken in your 
principles, and after that cultivate the good opinion of 
your schoolfellows as far as in your power. 

I am persuaded your attentiqn to my plan will re-' 
store you to that happiness which I am ^ad to discover 
you do ;iot at present enjoy. The reflection that you 
have performed your duty will remove all doubt from 



your mind. That you should dream of your mother 
is not surprising. She has engaged your thoughts 
Tery much^ and we UMialty dream of that which has 
most weight on our spirits. I trust that in future your 
conduct and your feelings will be so properly united^ 
that your slumbers^ like your mind, may be tranquiL 
The smiling period of youth has this delusive advan* 
tage over all other seasons of life. The world looks 
fair, and 3^00 believe all its promises. You have few- 
cares and very little thought for yourselves* Alas! if 
ye have not some guardian^ some kind friend to point 
out the shades in this seemingly perfect picture, you 
will add a tint to the 'ever- varying scene that shall 
finally Qvershadow yc^isc I know^ you will forgive an 
old woman v^ho is truly anxious for yoar happiness i 
one who would willingly guard your youth without 
blinding your judgment by gloomy prejudice^. 

I hope to hear from you again, and in that expec* 
tation subscribe myself. 

Sincerely your^s,. 

Arabella Aegus» 

Boys who have never quitted home, who, in the 
approbation of then: parents and the dehghts of family 
intercourse, have been accustomed to own themselves 
happy, will hardly comprehend how it is possib|c for 
children to enter into a combination so unnatural. I 
. am well assuredj^ that this absurd custom wbieb is 



most prevalent in public schools, loses its power over 
the niinds of youth as reason usurps her throne^ but 
that they should ever evince an ignorance so wilful>' 
80 truly unjustifiable, is certainly a matter of geiieral 
concern to all who value ^he characters of youth. 

( "6) 


To all those whom it may concera. 

My disposition is natarally persevering, and from the 
moment in which I volunteered my services as a Spec- 
tator, my vigilance has been proportioned to toy ardent 
interest for the happiness of children. 

I know exactly what sort of writing pleases some 
children^ — for instance, a story beginning— 

^^In a beautiful village in the north of England 
lived Mrs. Villars," &c, I see the eager eyes of a 
little 5tory-loving dame glisten with delight at an 
opening so proiijising; while another, with equal 
pleasure reads the "Fairy Tale," and wishies, just to 
gratify her curiosity, that there were really such crea* 




tures as fairies. A third likes an opening of this 
sort — ^^ Oa<$e upon a time there was an old woman/' 
&c. It would be very hard upon the season of youth 
if we were entirely to repress their little tastes, or re- 
^ strict them from the amusements suited to their age* 
But I am persuaded that an early course of light head- 
ing is very prejudicial to sound acquirement. I am, 
at the same time, convinced that many of the juvenile 
publications now in circulation Sire in themselves 
highly valuable, from the morality they have the 
power of inculcating, ijF their purport is comprehended 
by their readers ; but I must believe that the scenery 
and decorations^arethe chief attractions with children. 
>I wish I could impress upon my readers, that it is 
not the number 'of books which they peruse that will 
make them wise, but the application of the moral ; 
the imitation of such amiable proofs of duty, good 
temper, and religious conduct, as is displayed in half 
a thousand of the little volumes which have fallen into 
my hands. For my own part, I am an avowed ene- 
my to very extensive libraries for children. Give 
them a few books, and let them be of the best sort. 
If they really Jove reading they will not fail to go 
through theita two or three times ; there arc few chil- 
dren who may not with propriety be termed superficial^ 
readers. Thus, the frequent perusal of a small, je- 
lect hbrajry must consequently lay a good foundation 
for the watchful parent to improve ; and though I am 
conscious there would be some di^iculty in persuad- 


ing children to think my plan agreeable, at first> I 
am so well assured of its utility^ that I almost wish I 
had as many tongues to enforce my proposition zs I 
.have eyes to observe the many defects and foibles ac* 
tually existing. 

I presume that you have all heard of Argus who in 
, mythological history is represented as having an hun- 
dred eyes ; now I, .as an old woman of the present 
times, can assure you I have not quite so many; 
yet I will prove to you that my «yes are very piercing. 
For insunce, they penetrate through the thick brick 
wall of a certain nursery : what a scene presents it- 
self! A battle between a young gentleman and the 
nurses. Let me be correct : oh ! I perceive the women 
ar<e holding the little tyrant's arms to prevent him from 
proving tiimself a coward, for none but cowards ever 
faise a hand to a female. Now let me state the cause of 
this confusion. Master Edward has asserted his right 
to the toy with which his brother is playing; one is an 
infant in arms, and is amused by the plaything, th« 
other ahoy of nine years of age. I almost doubted 
my sight in this case, and actually placed my specta- 
cles on my nose to take a more accurate view. Alas ! 
it is too true ; the young rebel is kicking and squall- 
ing, while the dear little baby, quite unconscious of 
his offence, it laughing at the noise by which he is. 
surrounded. Churlish, selfish, childish boy, I blush 
for you. Dry your tears and think for a moment : 
are you not a poor helpless dependent on the bounty^ 


^F your parents? Regard the fumituit that makes 
your home so comfortable, the bed on which you 
sleep, the bread you eat. Are you able of yourself to 
procure one of these conveniences of life ? No ; then 
hqw dare you presume to deprive a little innocent babe 
of a small share of those blessings you enjoy. Your 
brother has not the power to express his wishes yet ; 
and if you use your reason to exhibit feelings so an« 
amiable, you are both cruel and undutiful ; cruel, 
because you neglect the opportunity of making your 
brother happy — and undutiful in forgetting that your 
parents have always considered you, and have in con- 
sequence a right to expect in return a strict attention 
to their happiness, which you cannot be so ignorant 
as to imagine you promote when you appear in a cha* 
racter so truly odious* 

What would you say, when seated at the dinnerr 
table, if your father was to enter the rQom and speak 
thus — ^^ That mutton, those potatoes and pudding 
are mine^ I see that Edward looks as though he 
could eat of each, but as he would like to do so I will 
-deprive him of them.'* Yet your parents* right in this 
<:ase is unanswerable ; but tliey, being influenced by 
reason, are anxious to contribute to your comfort ; 
you, as less endowed with reason, are not exactly ca- 
pable of acting for yourself; but there are degrees 
of reason, and that of which all children are pecu- 
liarly sensible should be your guide, namely, that 
you would not like to be served thus yourself. lie^ 


memberyour catechism — ^« Do unto all men as I would 
they should dp unto me." This liberal and just maxim 
applies to every stage of life, and if in childhood you 
regard it as you ought, you will be dutiful to youi* 
parents, affectionate to your brothers and sisters, and 
above all you will be doing the will of God who scetH 
£^11 hearts, and hath tenderly recommended to us to 
love each other. ^ 

I turn my eye from this nursery fracas $nd behold a 
drawing-room cabal. • Three or four children , have 
been permitted to amuse themselves with drawing- 
books, maps, picture games, 8cc. upon certain terms, 
viz. that they replace each of these sources of present 
pleasure in their respective places. They have agreed 
to the proposal : but pow that the games are' over and 
the book ceaSes to amuse, they are quarrelling as to 
the share each is to take in this very essential and ne- 
cessary duty, order. — Perhaps you are not exactly 
conscious of the extent of your errors in a case of this 
sort ; let me enumerate them for you. First then, 
you break your word, which is a very serious fault s 
Secondly, you dispute the authority of your parents. 
I need not remind you where you are enjoined to 
'^^ Honour your father and mother :" Thirdly you e- 
vince a very unamiable specimen of fraternal love 
when you argue and quarrel, where a little mutual 
exertion and good humour would not only make you 
acceptable to your parents, but encourage them to 
grant you any reasonable indulgence. I beg of you 


- JOVEKlt^ 87ECTAT01U Ifl 

to reflect* You ar« now the happy inmites of one « 
dwellbg. TiJW, which is stealing from you imper* 
ceptiUy, will, in the course of a few years, separate 
you. You will hie called upon to take part in the ac- 
tive scenes of life, and when distance intervenes and 
you think of the dangers to which a broiher is ex-* 
posed, and remember with regret the many bicker* 
ings which occurred while ye were, together, believe 
me, youx happiness will, be greatly diminished ; ai^d 
with girls whom school^ distant friends, or any other 
Contingence removes, the same feeling will certainly 
recur. Death, which has equal power over all the 
creatures of this world, may claim you for his own. 
Consider this, and make it your study to live together 
in *^ brotherly love." It is by ordering yourselves, 
lowly and affectionately, that you acquire a fit tem- 
per of miiid to mix in the world. A hasty word, or 
a blow given to a brother or sister frequently unknowax 
to your parents' and consequently unreproved, may 
establish from habit a violence of character which 
shall lead to ippst serious consequences. Strangers 
will not bear with your intemperance ; they will chas-. 
tise your presumption, and it is more than probable 
that the boy whp in infancy tyrannizes over his juni- 
ors will fa]l a victim to false honour by becoming a 
duellist, the most guilty and criminal of characters. 
In girls a disposition of the kind has an effect equally 
deplorable ; that gentleness of manner inseparable from 
a delicate mind is deformed ; they are petulant, over* 



bearings tinkind to their inferiors, and but lightly eis« 
teemed by. their acquaintance. Friends are out of the 
question^ for a tyrant has no friend. A female own- 
ing such a character is incapable of exercising the vir- 
tues which grace her sex. The voice of distress 
cannot reach her ear, for the desolate fear her scornful 
and impatient manner ; thus she is a stranger to the 
delights of charity. Riches fail to make her respec- 
table, for she knows not how to dispense them ; or if 
she is led to confer a favour, the manner of her gifl 
may add an additional pang to her heart-stricken ap- 
plicant. Not one of ye but can discern the shades in 
these my unamiable portraits but do not, like the 
Pharisee, thank your God that you ' are not such> 
Your characters are not yet perfected ; it is by adding 
foible to foible that they amount to errots, and errors 
will become vices. The word is too odious to bear 
reference to that class of beings for whom I am thus 
solicitous. But, as there is a progression in every 
pursuit and study in which you engage, so is there a 
progress in your faults; and if you suffer them to gain 
an ascendancy over you in early youth, it will be in 
vain that you look for happiness or honour in more ad- 
Tanced life. 

I shall be greatly disappointed if I am considered 
rigid and severe as a spectator ; yet I am certain that I 
cannot expect, or hope, to please allvay young friends ; 
but I candidly avow that whatever the decisions of my 
juvenile critics may be, I have not brought forward 


aoY do I mean to exhibit a character^ the likeneas of 
which has not actually fallen under my observation* 

I have before made some remarks on the manner in 
which some children repeat their lessons ; it was tiHirm 
weather when I wrote those pages^ and ' I now beg to 
say something of frosty morning lessons. I believe 
we are all of us sensible of some degree of uncomfort- 
ableness on entering a cold room^ early in the mom- 
mg > but as those who hear a lesson^ may be pre- 
sumed to have the same feelings with those who say it^ 
I cannot understand the necessity of their interrupt- 
ing their studies^ by*the extraordinary information, 
that *' It is very cold,'* or, that ^^ their voices are to 
be changed, from the clear amd smiling acquiescence, 
so graceful in youth, to the whine, if not the dis- 
cord, of sulkiness." Can a lazy posture, and a grum- 
bling disapprobation of that, which it has pleased God 
to order, either abridge your appointed business, or 
add to your amiability of character? — Assuredly not: 
then why give way to such whims? Take, into your 
^consideration, how many aged people are exposed to 
the inclemency of the season ! How many must toil, 
ere they can procure a breakfast ! How many children, 
younger than yourself, are working in the various ma- 
nufactories, which our happy island supports, Where 
they are excluded any material benefit from the com- 
fort of a fire, and fare on the most homely food, and 
that, perhaps, in limited proportions ! There are 
very few real troubles attached to childhood, — evea 


those who are mosft unfortui^ately situate, by w)iich 
I ni§aii, bhil^req^ who are orpbai^s^ who depend uppn 
precarious friendships, or are confined to sedentary 
e^iployments;— even these find their hours of happi- 
ness^ and in^ pl^y^ & moderate recreation, or the ap- 
probation of their protectors^ forget their little sor-* 
rpwi^. Nature has wisely in this^ a3 in all her dispen- 
sations, given a supshin^e to the bosom of, youth, 
which more than compensates for the light clouds 
which sometimes gather over the pillow of infancy* 
If children^ thus situated, are grateful and contented, 
how unpardonable are thqse who make troubles and 
repine, when they ought to rejoice* But I have really 
seen that, which was intended as a relaxation and^ 
kindness by a parent, received with ill-humour and 
ingratitude by children; I m^^an the instructions of 
masters; — for instance, the music master's lesson on 
one day, is the most delightful thing in the world, — 
and the pupil performs her part correctly:— on ano- 
ther, she is not ready for him,— she *^ hates the name 
of music ;** — ^^ she is sure the book is misprinted, and , 
that ^Af knows best what the passage should he:'^ she^ 
wishes there was no such thing as music. Now, if 
th6 cause of this distaste was sought into, it would be 
found to be as ridiculous and ungrateful as folly could 
imagine. The young lady has some idea, that if this 
^ had not been her music day, she should have been 
able to go out with her mamma in the carriage, or 


have been at liberty to proBecute some more delightful 
because nett^ occupation. 

It is a very general erfor with children^ 'to ridicule 
their masters : I kdow ho foible more reprehwisible// 
or more likely to deprive them of the advantages to be 
derived from their instrueiions. 

As it is to be supposed, that parents Mways assure 
themselves of the capacity of the persons whom they 
engage, it must be evident to these very discerning 
little judges, that in that brahch of science which they 
profess to tea<ih, they must be superior to their pu-* 
pils. If your dancing master gives you the necessary 
rules for walking, attends to the ease of your figure, 
and teaches you the steps usual and proper for a gen* 
tlewomau to adopt, it is of no consequence to you, 
whether he speaks good English^ dresses fiishionably, 
or has an odd looking countenance;— he does his part 
in attending to these points, and, ka he concludes 'he 
has been engaged to instruct the daughters of respect- 
sible families, — ^pray do not disappoint hiin, by forget- 
ting yourselves. I might speak of all masters, indi-^ 
vidtially, *but I shall cohflne thyself to the unfortu- 
nate Treftch master. I see my readers sniile, — boys^ 
as well is i^ifls. 'Eab'h of you ttcollect a Moii^ieur 
somebody, Who is the oddest ci^ature in the w^rld ; 
—one refaerfibers A long i!iosed Mbiisitfur'; a^other^ 
such a starved 16^fig ^tllfi^a) :— onb boy recollects 
the good j6k^s he ha^ put upbh ah odious French 
usher;— another smiles at his stupid English, &c. &c.. 

1S< aUTBKILS 8»CTAT01t« 

Can any thing be more contemptible^, than conduce 
of this sort, when duly considered^ The French 
language has become very general in this country since 
the Revolution, and the manner in which it is now 
spoken, by the Fnglish, is very superior to our former 
acquirements in the language. This is to be imputed 
to the distresses and necessities, to Which well edu- 
cated Frenchmen and French women have been re- 
duced ;»-and Is that laudable spirit of industry, which 
has led them to exert their talents for their support, to 
make them the objects of our ridicule? I blush^ 
while I put my hand to a record, so unworthy of a 
free and generous people; nor could any thing but my 
love of truth, induce me to pursue the subject further. 
National prejudices, by which is understood a dis- 
like to a person, merely because he is born in France,, 
or in Ireland, or any other country, of which we en-, 
tertain a mean opinion. When grown people exhibit 
a feeling of this sort, we are led to suppose, that they 
have some reasons for their conduct ; but children, to 
whom I address myself^ are very easily led to actions^ 
triply unbecoming, without an idea of the consequences 
to which their folly may subject them ; or any other 
motive for their prejudices, than the force of imi- 
tation. Many of you, if atrictly questioned, '^ why 
you disliked a Frenchman," would appear very ridi- 
culous in your replies. I remember once being present, 
where a boy had vented hb excessive dislike to the 


French, when a lady asked him, — " What were his ob- 
jections to them V* The young gentleman paused, — 
*^ Why they are so thin,'* said he.— *^ Have you no 
other accusation to bring?" retorted the lady.—** Yes; 
they talk so quick, and can eat any thing,^* rejoined 
the little critic.-^** The form of their bodies does not 
depend upon themselves," observed the lady ; — ** Th« 
facility with which they speak, is no argument against 
them, but rather a characteristic of their country; 
they are lively and animated,, and their language ad? 
mits of a fluency, which our's ~does not. I do not 
agree with you, that they can eat any thing ^ they are 
less difficult in their food, and by no means so much 
addicted to gluttony as the English : and indeed this qua- 
lity is much in their favour^ in my opinion ; while to 
you, who dislike them so mucji, it must be the cause of 
much satisfaction, that they will not interfere with the 
good things, of which we English think so much/' 
The boy looked angry,, and with some boldness, add- 
ed^ — ^^ That they spoke such fodish English, that he 
could not help laughiiig,. whenever a Frenchman pre* 
tended to think he understood it."— ^* Yet, I can as- 
sure you,'* continued the lady,^ — ** that if you were 
in France, and expressed yourself inelegantly in their 
language, they would not be disposed to be rude ; on 
the jcontrary, they would make judicious allowances 
for your ignorance, and, with much affability, assist 
you to understand whatever could conduce to youc 


■ \ 

comfort/'—*^ Then I hate them, because they are 
Frenchmen,'* said this little prejudiced mortal. The 
lady, smiling, dropped the argument, mildly adding, 
«-*-^^ that such a decision was unanswerable, as neither 
reason nor humanity could convince a person, so un- . 
' fortunately deficient in common -sense/^ I satv. the 
young gentleman looked very angry, but he did not 
Venture any more remarks. 

Yet, iJfear, silly as this boy must '^appear, there are 
-a few young reasoiiers, . who could give no better ex- 
planation of their distaste to Frenchmen, than those 
I have exhibited. I would certainly recommend to 
the young of both sexes, the love of their country ^ 
in a boy, it leads to those I'csearches in history, which 
must ultimately form the mind, and polish the man- 
ners ; and in whatever eituation of life he may chance 
to staiiid, a knowledge of tbslt constitution he is bom 
to support, k ^tbsolutely necessary to him as a man 9 
-*-Jwhile |;irls, by ccmtrasting the character of women^ 
(in tiiAies, wfaeii their pursuits ^were very distinct to 
these «f iht present day,) may, by a just habit of 
thinking, dicquire a .knowledge of the capability and 
povi^rs of "the tbmale mind, so amply illustrated in a 
Jane Grey, a iiady Itussel, &c. &c. &c. Bat if our 
reading is to amsiwer no othet^purpose, than to beguile 
Aie present hour, tf we enter into society, with all the 
weak pr^a^ices that are inseparable from the vain and ^ 

Ae ignorant, tre are indeed a very inferior people, and i 

by no means an honour to our country^ ^ 

JttVlNItE «PECtAt01l. ltd 

t kndw thit It would be eilmost )tnpo69ifkk to con- 
iflnce a school-boy, ^vho is tiifhing oyer thie pages of 
the Grecikn and Rothan HiStdfieii, thlit «ifere ^U 
mueh to condemn ki those cbafslctfert, wfcose d«ed6 of 
hetoic valouf , so completely captivkte k young ttilri4 ) 
yet a tyrant is a tyrant, in whatever dime lie ej^erta hi* 
power. « 

It is highly criminal, to attach particular defects 
of character generally 5 — if we are at the trouble to 
understand the dispositions of those with whom we 
associate, it will rarely happen, that some trait of' 
worth does not soften the human portrait, and it is 
the beauty of virtue to be seeking the good, rather 
than anticipating the errors, of a fellow-creature. 

^* What a dull Chapter,** says one of my yawning 
readers: — "Dear, Mrs. Argus,*' says another, — *^ I 
really expected, from the opening of this Chapter, 
that you were going to tell us a story.** 

In pity to your exhausted patience, I will close this 
tedious paper, which, even to myself, appears rather 
desultory, — not much unlike to the frog, in the fable, 
who hopped about from *^bank to bank.** Yet, I 
cannot forbear one wish, which is, that my little 
friends, like the *^ steady snail,** may always perse- 
vere in the path of duty, for duty is the basis of every 
virtue; a dutiful child must have an affectionate heart, 
for the best feelings of the mind are matured by the 
practice of duty. Thus generous friendships and li- 

• 3 - ' 

130 jnnrBKXLE spbctatok. 

beral sentiments^ are the natural blossoms of a well- 
r^ulated mind^ which has too much pride, to adopt 
an opinion^ unsanctioned by observation and reilec- 
lion; and too much humility to dare to ^^ judge^'' 
when it has been enj.oi(ied us not to ^^ judge^ lest we 
be judged/' 

( 131 ) 


* Be wIm te^Xf 'til madflcn to dcfier." 

I HAVE often> and' with sincere plleasure^ contem* 
plated the features of children, when an expected hap* 
piness^ or an agt^eable surprise^ has animated their 
countenaaces; but none of ye^ however grateful, 
could look or feel more pleased than I did^ when^ on 
entering my breakfast-room,, this morning,, I disco- 
vered a letter, with the — -— • — po»t mark. I forgot 
my buttered toast ; — the urn. continued singing most 
sonorously: — I heeded neither,, but clearing my spec*-* 
tacles, I broke the seal, and read, as follows :;: 



To Mrs. Argus. 

My dear Majdam^ 

I have conquered^ and gained two new friends into 
the bargain. Charles Osbom brought five or six boys 
into my study last nighty just as I had begun to write 
to my mother. They made a great row at first, and I 
could not make myself heard for some time; at last I 
told them^ that I did not come there to be taught my 
duty by them ; — ^that my study was my own, and I 
would do as I pleased in it; — that I loved my mother 
too well to make her unhappy, and would write to her 
and all my friends whenever I pleased. Charles Os- 
bom made a snatch at my letter, but I soon got it from 
him, and gave him a hearty thrashing. He blubbered 
at first, and ^sked the boys to help hhn to give me a 
drubbing. I don't know whether they would have 
joined him, for just at that time my chum, Dennis 

O^Brien, with Lord George M^ •, came to the door, 

and inquired the cause of the row. I told theta ex* 
actly how it was, and they both agreed that I was in 
the right: Dennis declared he would defend my cause 
i^ainst the whole school, and Lord George insi^ed 
upon it that I was a true Englishman, because I con- 
sidered my study as my castle, and would not yield to 
itrfrudcrs. While we were arguing the business, one 
of the masters came up, and Lord George explained 
the whole to hirti! He was very kind, and recom- 
mended me always to continue steady in my duty to 
my parents. He sent the others away, and this mom- 


ing, while Osbom and his party were quizzing me, 
O'Brien and Lord George who heard it, came forward. 
My lord made such a good speech that I am sure he 
will be a great man in time ; and Dennis spoke very 
clever ; but I thanked them both, and told them I 
hoped they would always be my friends ; but that I 
knew I could fight my own way in this business. 
They seemed to like me the better for this, and Mr 
Wardon the master I mentioned, told me to day that 
he approved of my conduct. I hope you will think I 
have done right ; I have seized the firtt moment to 
tell you these particulars, and 

I remain, dear madam, • 

Your's, respectfuHy, 

William Mordaunt. 

P. S. I forget to say, that I have written to my 
grandmother as well as my mother ; and will not fail 
to answer any letter you may be so kind as to send 
to me. 

This letter, as my young friends will very readily 
believe, proved perfectly satisfactory to me, and I 
used an early opportunity to assure him of my. appro* 
battQn. When we reflect upon the advantages thi$ 
child gained by an exertion of his reason, and see how 
completely insignificant the blustering prejudices of 
his anjtagonists appear, it most be obvious to every 
discerning mind, that none but weak and cowardly 


spirits yield up their opinions, without a due consi*^ 
deration of their subject* William Mordauiit stood 
upon a precipice^ and had he not submitted to be 
directed, would have joined that thoughtless and 
unamiable band, whose object i& to make others as 
unhappy as themselves ; for that any person can be 
happy, who acts contrary to duty and humanity^ is 

My breakfast was scarcely removed, when my ser- 
vant handed me a salver containing three letters. 
I will transcribe them in the order in which I perused 

To Mrs. Akous.. 

I have wsdted much longer than I intended to do,, 
because I was ashamed to address you till I had 
eonquesed my foolish habits, and I have now the plea- 
sure of assurmg you, that my mamma has not bad oc^ 
casion to reprove me for my manner of sitting for more 
than a week, so I hope I have got the better of this 
fault: indeed I have been so happy as to please her 
very much during the fast fortnight, and she says it 
b not vanity in me to tell you so. I have always been 
particular in placing my ehair even and sitting in 
the certtre of it, and whenever I have found myself 
leaning^, or twisting my ancles round each other, I 
have suddenly caught myself and remembered that E 
hadsaid^ *' I wished to conquer, the foibfc*" We have 



been very much grieved at parting with our brother^, 
virfao is gone to school^ but he has written us word that 
lie is quite happy^ and the master has called upon 
zny mamma^ and speaks so well of him that we are 
quite delighted about it. My sisters mean to fill up 
the paper^ so I must conclude. 

I am^ dear madam^ 

Your's, very respectfully^ 

Fannt Mordaunt. 

My dear Madam 9 
Fanny did not explain to you how very much I 
have wished to write to you^ but to be sure^ I was a 
little ashamed how to begin^ or else^ I could have 
told you a fortnight ago, that I tried your method, 
and gave up: all lessons for a week, but oh! how 
tired I was; I got all my bits of silk^ and began to 
make pincushions;, that would not do, for 1 had 
nbbody to advise me about the shapes and the prettiest 
colours ; well then, I took ray playthings, and made 
a baby house, but I could not talk to the chairs, and 
my sisters were engaged with their masters ; I had told 
my mammai^ that I wished to. have a whole week 
to myself and she gave me leave, and said she was 
certain it was the best plan, for she had read your 
letter. All' my books and maps had been locked up^ 
at her desire ;* so I could not read,, nor amuse myself 
with tracing the maps. I got so sleepy of an after- 
noon that I was forced to go to bed before six o^clock^. 

136 , JtrVlEOTLE XPECtATOil. 


every evening ; and you cannot think how vexed I 
was one morning, when I {bund that Sfiss Wilmot 
and Miss Woodgate had been at out house the even*^ 
ing before, and had danced reels with my sisters while 
my mamma played to theto ; was nbt this very vexa- 
tious ? but though I tried to keep my eyes open tbe 
next night, I could not, and then I lost something, 
for my grandmamma came to tea, and I always love 
to be with her; but perhaps she would have found 
out that I had been idle, and would have talked to me 
about it. Now you sec, mad^fm, that ! did as you 
desired, though I certainly dW n6t nnderstaiid your 
ftieanin^ then; it is quite ^jlain toiitte noW; you 
knew, that being idlfe, would tife me much more 
than my lessons could, and indeed yofi are right, for 
I have beeh .very regular at my studies evfer sirtce, 
and am now very happy indeed, fdr my ihaiiAma is 
pleased with me, and I have had good tickets fi*om 
my masters, almost every day. Please to tell uSe if 
you approve of my having a half holiday onCe a week ; 
1 shall' be very inuch obliged to yoii ; but pray do ncft 
order me to be idle again, for I never was sq unhappy 
in my life, Lucy has a great deal to tell you, s6 I 
must bid you good bye, 

I am, dear madam, 

Your's, respectfully, 

Harriet Mordaunt. . 





Dear Madam^ 
I wish I could write better^ because what I have to 
tell you is much prettier than any story I ever read, 
for it is quite true. I never will keep my money, 
bright any more» for indeed it is very useful. My 
mamma took us to a nursery ground one day last week; 
and while she was chusing some flowers, Harriet and I 
ran about the gardens. Well^ do you know that we 
saw an old man with white hair, and two big girls, 
sitting upon the ground, eatipg cold potatoes ; so I 
did not know what to think of h, and I stood looking 
at them* At last I said that " I thought potatoes 
were much nicer roasted^'' and I asked them why 
they eat them cold. The old man smiled, and said^ 
^* they were certainly much better hot, but that they 
were glad to get them any how.** Are these all the 
dinner you will have today? said Harriet. They, 
said it was. So I asked thetn why they dined so 
soon for it was only twelve o'clock, and the poor old 
man told me, that he and his two daughters had been 
at work ever since four in the morning* ^^ Had you 
no luncheon ?" said I. They sa^d, ^*No." "What 
will you have for tea and for supper ?^' said Harriet, ' 
Only think how shocking, madam ! thisy told ua 
that a draught of water and a slice of bread must serve 
fbr their tea, and a few warm potatoes, and perhaps 
a little beer for supper. Just then, my mamma 
came dowo the walk, and I whispered to her, how 



sorry I was thiai I had not my purse with me, but she 
said she would lend me whatever sum I wanted. So I 
borrowed a seven shilling piece, and asked the old man 
if Jie would accept of it. Oh ! if you had but seen how 
thankful he was ; I never knew, till then, that hap- 
piness could make people cry. Harriet and I could 
not help crying when we saw the tears run down the 
poor man's cheeks, and his daughters blessing us, and 
thanking us ; yet I was not uncomfortable while I 
cried, which is very odd, for I always used to feel 
uneasy when I had occasion to cry. My mamma 
^ talked with the poor man, and we found that he had 
a wife at home, very lame with the rheumatism. So 
mamma got her direction, and we bade them good bye. 
Well, then the' coach was ordered to go to the poor 
woman's house. You cannot think what a mean 
room it was in which she lived I she was quite sur- 
prised, when we all got out of the carriage, and went 
into the house. She could not rise out of her seat, 
on account of her lameness, but she talked very 
sensibly with my mamma. While we were looking 
about us, and thinking how shocking it was for her to 
be lame, and have nobody to take care of her, one of 
the young girls we had seen in the garden came run- 
ning iqto the room. ** My dear mother,** says she^ 
^' I have brought you a bit of meat.'* But when she 
saw we were there, she stopped. Only think madam, 
the poor creature had not tasted meat for more than a 
vft^kx and if you had seen how joyfully she looked at 


it I am sure you would have cried as we did. I can- 
not tell you all that my mamma said ; but she gave 
the poor woman a one pound note and told her she 
would send our doctor to see her^ and we are to go 
again next week. I paid my mamma the seven shilling 
piece when we got home, but I have got three ctowns 
and seven half-crowns left, so I shall buy some flannel 
for the poor woman and a pair of strong shoes for the 
old man, and I will not forget to take my purse in my 
pocket when we go the next time. Money is indeed 
very useful ; what you said about it is just like what 
my grandmamma said when William was going to 
school. Really, I thitik you are very much like my 
grandmamma. There was a great deal more happened 
that morning, but I cannot describe it. I hope you 
will excuse my writing such a long letter, but I though^ 
you would like to know that I had found out some of 
the ways in which money may hp used. 

I am, dear madam. 

Very respectfully, yours, 

Lucy Mordaunt. 

I hope that I have in every respect proved myself 
ftn impartial spectator, and that I shall be forgiven 
when I declare that the letter of Lucy Mordaunt ap- 
peared to me highly interesting. There was a natu- 
ralness in her mode of expression, a simplicity so cha- 
racteristic, that I actually shed tears over its artless 
contents ; while the letters of her sisters, as exhibit^. 


ing evident proofs of their sincere desire to correct 
their faults, were very gratifying to me. It must be 
obvious to my readers, that my grandchildren had 
perfectly comprehended the nature of my adrice by 
the manner in which they had conducted themselves. 
There was one remark in the letter of Fanny on which 
I dwelt with much satisfaction ; namely, that she re- 
collected having said, that ** she wished to conquer 
her bad habit of sitting." Trifling a^ this may appear 
to a superficial observer, it is, upon reflection, a very 
conclusive argument in favour of her principles as well 
as understanding. It is so easy to say a thousand 
things which bear a correct import without the least 
attention to their meaning, that I cannot forbear re- 
commending to aUmy readers to pause on this subject 
a little. *^ I wish I cOuld get the better of this foible," 
tays a young lady whose mother had reproved her for 
a very inelegant custom of lolling on the dinner-table ; 
^' but I shall lose it as I grow older if you would let 
me dine with you every day, mamma; I am sure I 
should soon forget it." ** With whom do you usual- 
ly take 7our meals, Maria," said the lady. Maria 
blushed. ** Why, indeed, mannna," said the un- 
steady Maria, '^ my governess does tease me so while 
I am at dinner with her, that she is quite a torment to 
me.*' *« I dislike the expression, Maria," replied the 
lady, *^ and very much regret that you consider the 
good wishes and kind attentions of Miss Ricfasurds so 
lightly. So far from thinking your remark reason. 



able, or that you would conquer this foible by being 
admitted to my table^ I should feel I d^d the greatest 
injustice to Miss Richards in complying with your re* 
quest, and could neVer expect you to be attentive to 
my wishes while you dispute the capability and inten- 
tions of the person whom my approbation and esteem 
has appointed to take the immediate charge of my 
daughter. Nay, I should certainly disgrace you on 
every opportunity, by observing to all who noticed 
your awkwardness, that you were self-Villed and above 

Now had Maria, like Fanny Mordaunt, been 
really desirous of obliging her friends, had she seri- 
ously set about reforming her manners, this just re- 
buke of her mother's bad not reached her ear. That 
silly compliment which she had hoped would gain her 
point, like all unmeaning expressions, led to her hu- 
miliation ; and did all n^others repel these little at- 
tempts at finesse with the same firmness, I am.induc- 
ed to belifeve that children would be more happy, and 
parents more generally obeyed. It is a most errone- 
ous idea that youth may delay ; are 5^ou acquainted 
with the number of your days ? Hath providence un- 
folded to you how long you have to live ? Assuredly 
not. Then consider this, ye who cavil with time*; 
seize the moment in your power, and let duty grace all 
\»ur actions. There is no faulttoo trivial not to deserve 
correction, nor any error of which we truly repent to 
which the Grod of mercy will not incline a willing ear. 



I must not omit to make some comment on Har-* 

net's epistle. How delighted I was to perceive that 

that the little idler had discovered the value of time. 
• • ' ^ ^ 

I do not fear her relapsing into her former habits, for 
I believe it is almost impossible for those who have 
experienced that soothing consciousness which arises 
from the performance of our duties to forego its calm 

The next epistle which came under my considera- 
tion was from Miss Wilmot ; and to use the language 
of the infant library, *^ see here it is :'* 

To Mrs. Ar^us. 
My dear Madam, 

1 can never thank you as 1 ought to do for your 
very kind advice. My papa very fortunately acquaint- 
ed me a few days after I wrote to you, that he was 
go\ng to marry Mrs. Dalton. I attended to all he said 
on the subject, and then explained to him how undu- 
tiful and prejudiced I had been ; he was very kind te 
me, and took much trouble to make me sensible of 
the great danger of all prejudices. But he greatly 
surprized me by saying, that Mrs. Dalton bad been 
much distressed by my manner towards her> that she 
understood my feelings perfectly, and was made very 
unhappy by the idea of becoming the mother of a 
child who appeared determined not to love her. Thi» 
gave me much uneasiness, as^I really had no reasons for 
my conduct but those which my nurse had represented 


to me. I did not mention Jones to my papa as I 
thought he would be displeased with her, and, indeed, 
I recollected my promise to her. I asked my papa if 
I might name what he had told md to Mrs. Arnold ; 
he gave me leave^ and the next morning after I had 
had a long conversation with my governess on the 
subject, I begged her to walk with me to Mrs. Dal- 
ton's house. I cannot explain all that passed. She 
listened to me with much kindness, and though I did 
not betray even to her who had been the cause of my 
very improper behaviour towards her. I am certain 
she attributed it to the right person. We part^ on 
the best terms possible, and a few days afterwards she 
became my mamma. You cannot imagine, madam, 
^ how happy we are. I continue to make the breakfast 
as usual, ahd Mrs. Arnold is just of my opinion that 
there cannot be a more amiable woman than my 
maqima. Nurse Jones told me the other day not to 
fret, as I had a fortune of my own when I came of 
age, and could then live with whoever I chose. But 
I took that opportunity of explaining myself, and en- 
treated of her never to name the subject again, as I 
was quite ashamed of ever having listened to it. She 
cried very much, and said she meant every thing for 
my good. But even Jones has changed her opinion 
now, and yesterday declared that she believed her mis- 
t-ress was a very good sort of woman. I hope she will 
continue to think so, for I should be much grieved to 
part with her as my own mamma requested she might 




always remain in the family. Mrs* Arnold expressed 
herself so much like yourself^ madam^ when I first 
told her my foolish prejudices^ and, indeed^ Mrs. 
palton's sentiments were very similar, that I now 
i;learly perceive that all good people think alike on this 
fault. I shall in future be very cautious how I take 
dislikes, for I perceive it is very ungenerous ; and 
though I certainly love Nurse Jones, I shall content 
myself in giving her proofs of my regard, but will 
never listen to her advice in matters which do not be- 
long to her office. I thought you would like to hear 
that I had profited by your kindness, and must now 
only beg to add^ that I am your greatly obliged and 
very obedient servant, 

Sophia Wilmot. 

I was itiuch elated as I reflected on the uniform and 
happy improvement so visible in the mind and man- 
ners of my amiable correspondefits. I was not so, 
vain as to imagine that my advice alone had effected 
these happy consequences, as well might we expect a 
Bandy desart to become spontaneously fruitful. No : 
I perceived with grateful delight that I had been em- 
ployed in the culture of a favourable soil, engaged in 
assisting the blossoms of virtue to expand, to cast 
aside the noxious weeds which would in time' have 
grown up and wholly destroyed the fair promises of 
original intellect. 

And, again, I am obliged to enlarge upon the great 


danger of all sorts of prejudice. In the particular caiie-^* 
of Miss Wiimot, this evil would inevitably have ren* 
dered her unhappy in herself^ and unamiable to those 
whom providence has made her natural guardians. 
\ The motives dt her nurse might very probably be well 
intended^ but while I would recommend kindness and 
humanity to every domestic in your family^ I would 
guard you against an implicit ^confidence or weak 
adoption of opinions, which neither the education nor 
observations of this class of persons qualifies them to 
offer. I am so well assured^ that many thoughtless 
children have been led to conduct of the most undu^ 
tiful kind, on reasons as unfounded as those which ha^ 
nearly proved fatal to Miss Wilmot, that I cannot hut 
offer this fact to the consideristtioii of my readers as one 
very deserving of their serious attention^ . . 

The remaining letter was from Mr. Testy^ and as I 
am tempted to believe that many of ye are more amus- ^ 
ed by them than by my lectures, I am not so ungene-' 
rous as to suppress what may give pleasure. 

To Mrs. Argus. 

Being once more in possession of my house I era- 
brace the earliest opportunity of submitting my reqent 
grievances to your consideration. I had fully imagined/^ 
that my unequivocal disapprobation of my young vi- 
sitors conduct, would have induced their mbtHer to 
Restrain them, i»a degree, during the remainder of their 






▼bit. — I was mistaken. To all my. hints she invaria- 
bly repli^ — f^ Dear creatures^ this 19^ their season ; 
let them enjoy the present momepl/' "They "have 
no enjoyment^*' said I : ''do not you perceive that 
they are constantly projecting some new plan^ and 
liever satisfied when they have effected it. Why not 
inculcate the necesisity rather of using than abusing 
tipne ?'' '' Cousin^ cousin,'' said my kinswoman^ 
•'*you quite forgef your own youth ; were you always 
consistent ?'' '' I was like other boys, no doubt," said 
I,. >' often in th^ wrong, but I . do not remember any 
period of my life, wl;iile blessed by the protection 
of my parents, that I disputed their commands^ or 
h^d the .vanity to speak and vaunt opinions that were 
presuming/' There was a custom in iny youth which 
seems now quite outof use— -that of reproving a child for 
d fault, I do not think harsh measures justifiable, but 
of children are laughed at when they should be admo-^ 
iiisbed, and petted when they should experience a tem- 
porary banishment from your presence, all sense of 
duty and respect must be effaced from their minds 3 
and, indeed, I am persuaded, madam, that more 
mischief is done by laughing at the mt jof children 
than people generally imagine. Nay, I have seen 
this mistaken applause lead them into the heinous 
crime of falsehood, in order to have a good saying 
ready for the company. The species of falsehood to 
which I refer is that of passing off as your own^ what 
you have read in some of those silly compilations 


called ^ Encyclopaediaft pf Wit :' there cannot be a 
more contemptible sort of vanity^ nor one more likely 
to lead the retailer into the most humiliating situations. 
I would remind the boy, (for I am positive this foible 
must be confined to the masculine gender) who is thus 
prone, to look into the Iliad of Homer, who says, — 

*^ Nothiog'a so tedious as' a twice told tale.** 

This is a feeling of which many are sensible, though 
politeness seals their lips. 

Now my cousin's boys were wits, and they very 
courageously attempted to pass some of their coun- 
terfeit coin upon me. — '^ I am very sony you have de- 
voted your time to such light reading," said I, to a 
well-applied jeu d^ esprit of one of them. — ", / say 
so, cousin, '\ said the bpy, — ^^ But the hook said so 
before you,'' said I, Mid I placed the volume before 
him. He looked angrily at me> but his kind mother 
did away all my rebuke, by observing, that next to 
the actual saying of a good thing, its just application 
was the best proof of wit : thus the boy remains sa- 
tisfied of his own talents, and of course considers 
me a very ill-natured, not to say very ignorant, old 

But I feel that I am. intruding upon your invaluable 
time, madam» and will only beg to subjoin a statement 
of the expenses to which my young visitors have put 
me. I am rather eccentric, I own, and as such, have 
inclosed an exact copy of what, follows to my cousin, 

H 2 

% ' \ 

' / 


who will> I trust, see my motives ^a a just point of 
view, and give me the happiness, when she next in- 
troduces her sons to me, of making a balance more 
in fevour, and more congenial to my feelings, than 
that which I have recently dispatched to her. 

Edward Sf J^iseph B-^ — Pr*. 

■V _ ' , 

ToTimqtliy Testy.'' 

> £• s* cf* 
To damaging the lid of a Tea-urn^ by unne- 
cessary pressures, &€• • • • • * ' * • OS 6 

To breajcing 3 Chairs, in a poney race 15 6 

To demolishing a^ China Jar, the gift of my , 

dear mother • • • 4 14 

To expense of repairing Chimney, viz. Sweep- 
ers, Brooms,^ led not. mentioning the alarm 1 5.0 

To a new Looking-glass, shot at ,with a pea- 
shooter, Ned being a good marksman 7 10 O 

To playing Cricket in the Hall, and thereby 
breaking the Hall Lamp, though expressly 

forbidden... • •• f 9 O 


Toul it 11 o 

i^emoranduin, intended to have bought Ned a 
Pdiey, — prized one at Tattersatt's — asked-^ 
deduct • ••• 14 14 O 


Ballaneedue jf £ 17 O 

>'■ » 

I have no doubt but pay cousin 'will be very angry, 
when she receives my bill; but as I really have moeh 
esteem for her, and her boys will> in the course of 


time, become the inheritors of my property, I wish 
her to understand me, and Bhall be very happy if she 
takes the hint, and permits me to esteem those, whom 
it is sinccfrely my intention to serve. If. my letter 
should not appear too tedious, you may perhaps take 
the trouble of inserting it in your purposed publica^ 
tion; it ma^ be of service to rash philosophers, and 
would-be wits:— but I leave this to the discretion of 
Mrs. Argus, to whom I beg to subscribe myself, a very 
sincere friend, and well-wisher, ,^' 

Timothy Testy. 

I felt no hesitation in complying with the request 
of this gentleman, nor need I make any comment on 
the contents of his letter. Whimsical as Mr. Testy's 
manner may appear, I yet disco\rer much justness of 
reasonings an4 a very kind interest in the real happi- 
ness of. his relations. Children, I believe, very rarely 
consider those persons their friends,- whose candour 
leads them to tell Jthem of their faults^ and it is so 

tMJfeoSaj m' tfierpresence of their parents, that f 
certainly can make some allowance for the disappoint- 
ment their little vanities experience, when a real friend 
ventures to speak the truth. 

Edward and Joseph B are by this time apprized 

of their cousin's sentiments, and as a poney is an ob- 
ject of much consideration with boys, they are, pCr^ 
baps, now vaiply regretting their imbecile and babyish,. 


horsemanship in the drawing*r0om of Mr, Testy* 
I should be glad to hear that they profited by his hu- 
morous statement^ and I have that opinion of the li- 
berality of their relation^ that should they attend to 
his adiBce, he will give me tbe pleasure of acquainting 
my little friends of a circumstance^ always so grateful 
to my feelings. I dispatched my answers to each of 
the foregoing epi^tks^* aud being somewhat fatigued 
with writing, I walked to my daughter's. I found 
Mrs. Mordaunt descendis^ from the drawing -room, 
in order to see the children dine, and accompanying 
her into the eating-room, I took my station near the 
table ; there were two young ladies added to the fa- 
mily, whose names I did not immediately recollect, 
though their features appeared familiar to me. My 
daughter, however, introduced them as the Miss Bar- 
lows, and I now made my inquiries concerning their 
family. The dinner was simple, and in every respect 
suit^ to the little party; but, as I am an avowed 
SpectcttoVy I must not omit to give my sentiments 

My grandaughter Fanny was seated at tne neaa oi 
the table, and carved the joint of meat placed before 
her, with much ease and delicacy, by which I^mean» 
that she did not seem to consider it as a very fatiguing 
business, nor was she so awkward as to spill the gravy, 
&c. &c. I observed that the Miss Barlows ate very 
sparingly, and heard Helen, the younger of the two, 
whisper Harrier, and ask if $he never ordered her own 


dinners. Harriet looked much nurpr\$i^y 9M w* 
swered in the n^^tivc. — ^^ Only think how d«olIj" 
said my little unguariul (farrinet,— ^' th/e Miss Barlows 
have what they like for dinner/' ^^ Because we are 
very delicate," said Miia Barlow,^^^^ ami 4o not like 
' mutton/' Mrs. Mordaunt ifmn^ately ordei^d some 
cold chicken to be brought to table for tbese yem^ 
epicures, and I beheld with astoatsbment, that' tbey 
devoured it, withoui-ati idea of the impropriety and 
great isdcUcacy of their behaviour; whilfe, witli seal 
delight, I perceived 00 the counteaa^oes of the hide 
Mordaunts timid Uushes, and veiy com^rehtnaive 
looks glanced at each other. These delicate yovmg 
ladies gave us a very copious example of their powiers 
in the eating way ; for my own past, I waa really 
afraid they would be injured by their excess, and as 
gluttony b in itself a most gross and degrading ^ ro- 
pensjty, I was not in the least aurprised at the accom- 
panying inelegisncies which marked the manners of 
the Barlows: — they ta&ed loudly during the cwhok of 
the meal; — spoke with their mouths full;*-handled 
the bones of the chtcken;-^aad made so great a noise 
with their lips, that I was really pained al letting such 
glaring foibles pass unnoticed ; but I committed each 
of them to memory, determined to enlarge on their 
very odious appearance, and serious tendency on their 
characters, as females. 1 must not omit to state, that 
the. knife was more frequency used by these )adies^ 
than Uie fork ;v-that they drank without (wiptng their 


mouths^ and bit their bread, in place of breaking it. 
Besides whicb^ they more than once remarked^ during 
dinner, ^ how much they loved chicken^ and curry^ 
and asparagus,'' &c. &c. 

The Mordaunts never appeared to such advantage, 
as on the present occasion. Fanny sat irresolute, and, 
after some hesitation^ asked her visitors if they would 
eat a bit of rice-pudding ? This, as may be supposed, 
was declined.' I saw Mrs. Mordauntwas on the point 
of ordering something better; but I discouraged the 
intention by a glance, thinking she had already shewn 
too much deference to these bold girls. — '* Well, I de- 
clare I am very glad that I like what my mamma orders 
for us,'^ said Lucy, *^ for I suppose she knows best what 
is good for us.^' This remark was certainly rather 
impolite, but .the Miss Barlows were not in the least 
discomposed by it, they continuing to express their 
liking, and dislike to various dishes, of which my 
grandchildren knew not even the names.. The little 
party followed Mrs. Mordaunt arid myself to the 
drawing-room, and, as I considered that these young 
ladies would elicit some other traits of character dur- 
ing their visit, J was very particular in observing 

*' How happy you lAust be,*' said Miss Barlow, to 
Fanny Mordaunt, " you have not a teazing gover- 
ness to watch you, and tell tales of you;** Before 
Fanny coiiid arrange a reply,. Helen added. — ** Have 
you ever turit to that ugly old woman^ the Spectator ? 


) ■ * 

1 will always hate her; for do you know that Eliza and 
me writ her ^ letter, and told her how we. hatejl gover- 
nesses,— and she sent us such an impudent answer, 
ail about charity and grammar, and such stuflF; — but 
the worst of it is, she made mamma get us a governess^ 
for she liked the letter, but she cannot make us like 
Mrs. Pattin ;' so Eli27a and me often call her the old 
Spectator, and she don't know what we mean, and 
we make such fan of her.** 

Here the Mordaunts, as if actuated by one voice* 
interrupted the talkative and illiberal Helen :-^but their 
praises and their gratitude were so flattering, that I dare 
not repeat them, lest nry readers should consider me 
a vain Spectator;^— yet I can assure you, that I felt my 
cheeks glow with blushes, as they thus added to my 
Spectatoral laurels, and it was with some difficulty I 
refrained from embracing, and thanking them as / 
thought they deserved. 

I rather imagine that these little tatlers observed 
my countenance, for the restofihcir conversation 
was carried on in a loud whisper ; but the Mordaunts 
invariably replied in a voice perfectly to be understood, 
indeed this was a point in which their mother had 
always been very particular. She, with myself, deem- 
ing the very usual habit of whispering amongst child- 
ren, as a custom of the most vulgar sort. 

Two or three attempts were made by Helen Barlow, 
to rouse the little Lucy to ^assert her right to some 
particular toy, with which the others were engaged. 

H 3 


anxious degire for a very rich pudding ; or the rAnains 
of some well-remisnibered luxury now dismissed from 
the first table. I beg them to pause on this very una- 
niiable foible ; npt one of yoii but will readily perceive 
how improper the conduct of the Miss BarTows has 
appeared in this our Chapter. But though I am led 
to hope that there are very few children like them in 
all particulars ; yet let us not forget the *^- beam in our 
own eye,*' while we are quick to discover ** the mote 
in that- of our brother.*' 

That girls of their disposition should be insensible 
to the kindness of their mother, in engaging a gover- 
ness to take charge of them, ig not in theleast surpris- 
ing, or that they should continue to express them* 
selves in language so ungrammaticaLis not extraor* 
dinary;4hey are ignorant and self-willed, and unfor* 
tunately are indulged by their mother in many points 
which tend to retard their improvement* Could they 
be convinced of their errors^ and gently directed to 
that path in which certain success attends their jour- 
ney, by which I mean, ** the path of duty,'* they 
might yet become happy and worthy of regard. 

If I "had not been so fortunate as to have given 
a very pleasing contrast to these faulty characters in 
the beginning of this Chapter,. I should really have 
owned much regret af the occasion which brought 
these little actresses upon our juvenile stage; but as 
I trust, equally to the humanity as to the liberality of 



my audience^ I am convinced that they will pity the 
errors of ignorance, and be duly grateful that they 
possess friends who are watchful and diligent for 




- rience from the cramped position in which you hold 
yourarm^ the pleasure, of proving to your teacher, 
that you have a will of your own, will amply repay 
you for ^ny inconvenience of the kind ; and a boy 
of courage, he, too, knows how to play his part : If 
his tutor Jares to think he has not taken sufficient time 
to learn his lesson, he hesitates to receive the book ; 
•' is sure he knows it,'* &c. &c. If, at last, he is forced 
. to take the book, he looks any where but into it, and 
with all a dunce's courage again offers himself to be 
heard; the result may" be easily guessed, he says it 
incorrectly, stands twisting his buttons, or rubbing 
the table with his coat sleeve, and if his tutoj is pro- 
perly persevering, he not only gets his book again but 
-his task doubled. , i 

Seriously then, my little friends, you want th^ pro- 
per sort of courage when you look upon books as your 
enemies, and consider lessons as punishments : Qjuin- 
tilian, an ancient author, speaking of children, says, 
*^ there is no time of life which is less easily fatigued ;** 
the remark is very just, whether applied to their per- 
sonal or mental exertions: if the little journeys of 
children could be accurately calculated, I am persua- 
ded that in the course of a day, it would be found that 
even very young chil^dren walk many miles ; and with 
respect to the powers of the mind, they must be exer- 
cised in order to ascertain its capabilities ; the earlier 
we begin the important task of education the more 
pleasant will the work appear, and though! would 


certainly recommend to all persons who instruct ehild- 
ren^ to make it as agreeable to them as* possible ; I do 
not entirely approve of a custom now very prevalent, 
thatt of making almost every branch of learning a play ; 
with children of dull understandings^ it may be neces* 
sary to adopt such plans, but I really think it is an 
ofience to an intelligent child, to lead him by any 
than that sense of duty which should impel every 
creature to seek knowledge on whom God has be- 
stowed reason ; and that all who apply themselves jLo 
learning, may, in a degree, acquire that pleasure which 
is so fully expressed in the motto prefixed to thir 
Chapter, is a truth which has been and is continually 
offering itself to our observation : how many persons 
bom in obscurity, and reared in ignorance, have, on a 
sudden, become intense students, and ultimately ar- 
rived at excellence. . 

Yet, are the progressive footsteps to knowledge those 
from which we expect most, ' — how gratefully we look 
upon the flowers which bloom in the spring season; 
we reflect with conscious delight, that we have dpfie 

on r part in prp.p4»rtr»0 tWt* t*art\\ tO rpr»/>i"^. tK/am^ and 

we antrcipate the perfection of that summer whose 
early promise thus flatters, our care, and from the 
mind which has been sedulously cultivated, the pu- 
rest and most graceful blossoms of science may reason- 
ably be expected. Yet, that late education has produced 
men of great talents, is an unquestionable .fact, 
amongst others, the learned Joseph Scaliger, whose 


application was of the most extraordinary kind, it is 
recorded of him, that he learned ail Homer by heart in 
twenty -one days, thC Iliad containing 31,670 verses, 
and the Odyssey about the same number, and in a 
few months, most of the other Greek poets. As a 
contrast to him I will mention the great Erasmus, 
who when a boy had all Terence and Horace by 
heart. . ^ 

There are few circumstances which retard the progress 
of children more eflfectually than that of pressing too 
much upon their memories in very early youth ; yet 
the necessity of exercising this faculty of the^ mind, 
must be obvious to all my young friends; many of 
whom, I have no doubt, will agi^e with me, that the 
more frequently they exercise their memoiies the 
greater the facility with which they learn. 

That which we acquire by labour is not easily lost, 
the impression it makes is deep and lasmng ; and while 
I would rgect the idea of fatiguing or harassing the 
spirits of a child by very long lessons, I beg to make 
myself clearly understood. The pupil should subndit 

to fKp Hpri«mM« rvf the teftr»fv**r, stnA n«e his or her exer- 
tions to attain the task appointed, and jiot reject it 
without a trial ; — setting out upon a plan, in effect, re- 
sembling the following : viz. " that they are sure it 
is too much,*' " that they never had so much to learn 
before;" '^that grown "people have no consideration 
for children ;*' and " they would not like it if they 
were children,*' &c. &c. First prove to your instruct- 
ors, that they were wrong in having estimated your 


juvenil£ SFECTATOB. 163 

abilities so highly^ and there can be no doubt but 

they will, in future, adapt lessons more suitied to the 

weakness of your capacities. 

If I had purposed to swell this work to the extent 

of two or three volumes, I am much afraid that I 
^coiJd not fully, express myself on one subject^ — a sub-, 
ject so important to the capacities of the young, that 
I am really very solicitous to gain converts to my 
opinion : I mean a respect and aiFection for those who 
teach you; unless this actually exists, in a degree, 
. neither happiness nor improvement can result from 
the association. It was a saying of the ancioits, that 
<^ no adequate compensation can ever be made to our 
parents, and to our preceptors, for the benefits they 
confer upon us :" and in the New Testament it is writ- 
ten " I beseech you that you would take notice of 
them that take pains with you, and that admonish 
you ; and that you would have them in singular love 
for their work's sake/* 

Much has been said, on thcipleasure of t^ching 
children, but lam tempted to observe, that the task 

J -*.^ J L " r* "• ^^"'* *':.'^^ nprhaos, un- 

derstand me, when I pomt out a few more facts, 

which occasionally mix in the school-room exhibi- 
tions. Observe, I call that room in which lessons 
are done by this term, whether in a private family or 
not* Suppose a scholar is reminded, that to stand 
erect, and hold the book with both hands, is a grace> 
ful and proper custom ; and suppose the young lady 


does not chpse tp think it such ; she need not use her 
tongue to express this, but she can throw all the 
weight of the body on one foot, place her elbow close 
to her side, and retain the book so slightly that it 
may fall to the ground once or twice during the les- 

<son. All this may be done, without a word es- 
caping the lips of the little oppositionist ; yet she has 
the power of making her instructress truly unhappy 
by such conduct. Her simple order being disre- 

" garded, she is obliged, in her own defence, because 
it is her duty, to endeavour at making her pupil tract- 
able, in order to make her happy. I repeat, she is 
forced to use authority, and restrict the child in some 
particular, or give her some additional lesson* Then 
the young rebel calls her< ill«i(atured, and she is sure 
that no other child has so much to do, and she 
wishes $he was any where, and she grumbles and 
pouts. To what is all this owing r — to want of 
duty. Children who have been in the practice of 
observing • the commands of a parent will, in every 
circumstance of their lives, exhibit this graceful and 

wishes of arx instructress, because their parent has en- 
gaged the person for their advantage: in fact, there 
is, no quality of the human mind 4o extensive and 
blissful in its effects as duty: it is the foundation of 
every virtue; every imaginary hardship/fades "before 
this soothing and practicable effort of reason; and 
the only wonder is, that as nature dictates to every 


heart the necessity of its practice, that .there can be 
any reasonable creature who wilfully acts contrary to 
its comfortable influence. When we read of the acts 
of criminals, and shudder at the enormity of their 
crimes, we are apt to trace their vices to some neg- 
lect of early education, or some natural disposition tO 
evil ; but, could we converse with these children 
of error, I am persuaded, that the real source of 
almost every species of guilt, originates in want of 

And though I know some of my little reasoners 
will find an exception, to this; my observation, and 
with much quickness remark, that there are^children 
who have become orphans in their infancy, and con- 
sequently have never known a parent's care ; I answer 
to this, that it would be difficult, if not wholly im- 
possible, to find a child for whom Providence had not 
found some kind protector, either as a voluntary be- 
. nefactor or by the liberal patronage of some public 
school ; and to suppose that duty from a child thus 
benefitted, is not equally to be expected as though they 
were really bound by the tie of kindred, is to misunder^ 
stand the first and most important concern of our 
.life— religion. Are we not told "to submit, our- 
selves to all our governors, teachers, spiritual pastors 
and masters: to order ourselves -lowly and reverently,'^ 
and ^hat are these commands, bu^-an explicit exposi- 
tion of our dutjf^ no\ confined to any particular rela- 
tion, but to all who havexrharge over us. I make every 


allowance for the superiority of a parent's ckim to our 
regards ; I am not unacquainted with its tender mean- 
ing, but I cannot yield my opinion, that di«/y> is the 
foundation of every virtue ; no moral excellence can 
be attained, but by an early attention to those who 
guard your infancy ; of yourselves, ye are the most 
helpless and pitiable objects in creation ; nature has 
bountifully provided the animal world with instinct, 
which enables them to seek for support,, and live in- 
dependent ; but the human race depend upon each 
other, nor can a more tenderproof of God's mercy be 
adduced, than this^his^gracious ordination of the one 
great family of nature; we are all the creatures of his 
bounty, breathe the same air, are warmed by the 
same sun, and must all and equally return to that dust 
from which we sprang. Then let us, my dear, anriable 
young friends, bear in mind the great advant^es of 
our rank in the scale of creation, and by conducting 
ourselves with humility, prove our sense of those gra.- 
cious promises, which are in store for those who walk 
uprightly in the path of duty. Reflection, the grand 
distinction of our class, reflection being the offspring 
pi reason, will, whether we confess it or not, silently 
admonish us of our errors. Let us not turn from the 
voice of our friend, but meet her warnings with a 
sincere and contrite heart ; however trivial the lapse, 
it deserves and acquires correction, let us not add cr- 
jor to e^ or, but remember, that ^^ God is faithful and 


ju8l to foFgive U9 our sinsj and to cleanse us from all 

I will not offer any apology for the seriousness of 
this my present address. I fe^l that I am not ad- 
monisbing beings of an imperfect nature^ but creatures 
whom God. has endowed in the perfect image of him- 
self) as such, their gratitude, and their morsJ pride, ^ 
should lead them to contemplate their estate with ap- 
propriate reverence. " I am here to-day,*' says^the 
reflecting being, " but I may to-morrow be called 
into the presence of my God. Am I fitted for a 
Judge so sublime ? have I done my duty here ? Lord 
thou know^est all the secrets of my heart ; in thy sight 
all my actions stand clear and undisguised." 

Consider this,' ye, who yet in infancy fill a station 
so important, know, that y6u are the numbered atoms 
of an universal family ; that your virtues, are the glory 
of that God,' whose mercy is unbounded ; and that 
your errors, however trivialj will incur the just dis- 
pleasure of him, '* in whose hands are all the corners 
of the earth.'* 

It is by mistaking the motives of your instructors, 
that the foibles to which I have particularly alluded in 
this Chapter may justly be placed ; can you seriously 
believe, that any thing but a wish to promote your 
happiness, actuates them ; the more minute they are, 
in their observations on your habits, temper, &c. 
the greater your obligations to them ; and though I 
have dwelt with a, perhaps, tedious strictness in many 


existing defects in the youthful character^ I feel 
truly grateful^ that my own knowledge of many ami- 
able children^ leaves me no doubt of that corclial and 
sincere affection, which should exist between per- 
sons situated in the relative characters of pupil and 
teacher ; nay, I am sure, that one dear girl, for whom 
my warmest feelings are interested, could testify to the 
truth of my remark ; she, like others, may have fal- 
len into7i///e errors^ but her good sense never led her 
to persist in^er foible^ ^nd I am persuaded, were she 
asked the question, that she would not only say she 
esteemed her governess, buUhat she loved her. 

' < 

( »«9 ) 


** The wi«e and actiTe conquer difficultie«i 
By daring to attempt them,: sloth and follf 
l^iver and shrink a sight of toil and hazard. 
And make th* impossibility they fear." 

Though my memory is certainly very correct, con- 
sidering my age, I cannot trust the impression of the 
present moment to a future paper, and must therefore 
briefly state, that I am just returned from a morning 
ramble, in which such a. variety of niatter has forced 
Itself upon my imagination,- thai I really am very 
anxious to impart my sentiments to my little friends. 
My first purpose, on quitting home this morning, 
was to take a walk in Hyde Park; it is a recreation in 
which I frequently indulge, not more for the salubrity 


of its air, than the very extensive opportunity It gives 
me; of increasing my speetatoral knowledge. I have, 
as yet, been wholly silent on the subject oi walking ; 
yet it is one that will bear much analysis. 1^ have ob- 
served the trip j — the serpentine scramble, where the 
ancles appear so distorted, and the figure so debit i* 
tated, as to give one a correct idea of a person in a 
state of inebriety. >fext comes the masculine stride, 
with the arms swinging, and the pocket-handkerchief 
flaunting in the air. The hobble, with the toes most 
affectionately whispering each other; and the drawl, 
where the heels of the shoes are dropping at every 
step. There are many other methods of walking which 
might be described, but the3e shall suffice. If a pre- 
ference could be given to any of those which I have 
named, it would certainly be to the trip, which, 
though somewhat affected, has one advantage, — that 
of appearing timid, — free from boldness. There were 
a great number of young persons in the Park, and, as 
I regarded the general inelegance of their walk, I 
could not but refer to the probable amount of all the 
money which had been .expended upon dancing-mas« 
ters for these children, and how completely it had 
failed in effecting a very simple, though certainly a 
very graceful, acquirement. My regrets were, perhaps, 
increased, at perceiving the dresse^ of many children 
short, even to impropriety; it made the awkwardness 
of their manner more obvious, and I was tempted to 
think* that to a few it gave an additional air of bold- 


nfess, perfectly distinct from that soft retiring modesty, 
at once the greatest beauty, and the peculiar charm of 
youth. It will appear to my readers,^ that I am a very 
particular person, one -very difBcult to please, when I 
add, that out of the many whom I saw ,this morning* 
I could not select one, whose manner of walking ex- 
actly pleased me. I am so fully persuaded, that walk* 
ing is of more use than dancing, with very young 
children, that, for my own part, I would not permit 
a child (more especially a girl) to learn one step with 
a dancing-master, until she had acquired a firm, and 
equal habit of walking. I know that all the good 
teachers of this art, begin by exercising their pupils in 
marching; — but this, either to please the children, or 
the parent, is too soon laid aside, and the conse- 
quences remain obvious, frequently through life. I 
should certa'mly lament to believe, that much time is 
dedicated to dancing, the uses of which are so^unim*- 
portant to females, in private life; nor da I ever hope 
to see greater knowledge in thi$ art displayed, than that 
which tends to make children upright in their car- 
riage, and easy in their Avalk : I do not mean to re- 
strain them from the innocent, and very grateful re- 
creation, of dancing occasionally; but, as I have 
some reason for thinking that these sort of meetings 
have, a serious effect upon the minds of children; that 
they derange the regular system of educatipn, and ac- 
. tually unfit them for their duties, I would certainly be 
very cautious in admitting them to interfere with those 

I 2 


whom I loved. If, in your own family, you combine 
the requisites for a social ball, where neither dress, an- 
ticipation, nor late hours, lend their baneful influence^ 
there cannot Be a more innocent or heallliy exercise. 

But i have strayed from walking to dancing, even 
)Ust as my little readers would feel inclined to do; but 
f musl beg of them, to allow an old woman to walk 
by their side, yet a little longer. Let me ask of you 
one simple question; — Are you not anxious, in all 
your amusements, to make them as perfect as possible? 
Not one of you but could, with sincerity, reply in the 
affirmative : — th^n why neglect to make a duty, how- 
ever trivial, perfect? It is probable that you may pass 
through life, having very few occasions to exert your- 
selves in dancing; J)ut walkirtg is indispensable to 
health, and is, of itself, a very great enjoyment:— 
rest assured, there is no acquirement, however sim- 
ple, to which a certain degree of attention, is not ac- 
tually necessary; and, though thfe youthful idlers 
. may not so readily admit this truth, the time will 
come, when they shall not only believe, but lament, 
their inattention. It would be impossible to enume- 
rate all the various trifles, which appear as blemishes 
to an observing eye. We will drop th« subject of 
walking, with a sincere wish, that some of my faulty 
pedestrians will take the hints given to them, and I 
will> by way of proving that trifles have an influence 
in deforming the appearance, ^d lessening the per- 
fections, of the human character, illustrate my re- 
mark by a few facts. 


I knew it lady, whose understanding was highly 
cultivated, and whose sentiments were consequently 
listened to with respect ; yet, a very sensible pain was 
experienced by those to whom she addressed herself, 
by a habit she had of winking her eyes : the move- 
ment was so quick and incessant, that I have really 
felt my own eyes greatly weakened by looking at hei^ 
yet she appeared unconscious of it. 
. I have heard of an Englishman, of great talents, 
. who was sent as ambassador to a foreign court, ivhere 
his mind and manners, were fully appreciated. It hap- 
pened, that his qualifications were the subject of con- 
versation amongst the courtiers one evening; each 
spoke of him as learned, affable, and polite. At length, 
a very polished and distinguished character, made this 
remark:—*^ I have observed him attentively, and am 
obliged to dissent from your eulogium in one parti- 
cular; ^f he made less noise in eatings he would be 
all that you have said/' 

Another lady, for whom I have a sincere esteem, 
absolutely distracts the attention of those with wh6m 
she converses, by a waving motion of her body, if 
seated on a heavy chair; biit, if the seat happens to 
be a light one, the chair takes the motion, and you 
are in expectation of her falling upon her face. 

Neither of these inclegancies is acquired late m liffe ; 
they are the unchecked or neglected foibles of youth, 
which have " grown with the growth, and strength- 
ened with the strength/' and I can very ea^ly believe, 
are difficult to be eradicated. 


Then how important docls it make these trifles, wieh 
those who are yet under tuition ! How evident must 
it be, even to the youngest of my readers, that they 
should listen to the voice of friendship, uor deem any 
habit too trivial to be corrected ! 

T have hitherto been silent upon the subject of per- 
sonal vanity ; indeed, excepting in the instance of 
Harriet Mordaunt's reference to her grandmamma's 
mention of her beauty, I had hoped to have no occa* 
sion to revert to this excessive folly :— but permit me 
here to add, that Harriet has been completely laughed 
out of her vanity, and has had. the sense to a]low, that 
duty and good-humour make the only beauty that is 
lasting, or worthy of esteem. 

But I was going to observe, that we are never too 
old to Jearn : I^ like an obstinate old womati, bad not 
imagined that pet^sonal vanity was so general a foible ; 
but alas! I find it exists under such a variety of cha- 
racters, that 1 am compelled to devote a few pages, to 
corroborate my assertion. 

One young lady avoids the fire in the morning, be- 
cause it will catch her skin, and make her look coarse 
and heated ; — but in the evening she leans on the fen- 
der, because a colour makes her look pretty at night. 

Another triea on half a dozen necklaces, to disco- 
ver which becomes her best; and will stand twenty 
minutes in the cold, to decide a matter so ridiculous, 
and, perhaps, gruinbles at devoting half that thne to 
her prayers, because *^it is so cold;** 


A third is continually combing and brushing her 
hair, — the former sometimes in company; and while 
she is thus assiduous about external appearance, heri 
mind remains rough and unpolished. 

A fourth bites her lips, and simpers, and smiles, 
or laughs very heartily, in order to display her teeth, * 
which have been denominated by some very sincere 
friend, *' rows of pearl :" thus the laugh is always so 
ready, that the young lady passes for an idiot with the 
discerning observer, who deeply laments^ that the 
child had not the sense to discern, that .the subject 
was one which had claimed her sympathy, rather than 
her mirth. 

A fifth has such beautiful little feet,- that her shoes 
are of, the greatest importance to all the family; no ex- 
pense is too much, to decorate the petit pied ; aiid, of 
coufAe, the young lady thinks her feet of more con- 
sequence than her head, or her heart. 

How I pity these unfortunate children ; and how 
sincerely do I wish, that if any one of the foibles 
I have>here illustrated, attach to my readers, that they 
would take the trouble of reflecting upon it ; it requires 
only common sense^ to place every personal beauty 
in its just point of view. I remember reading a very 
descriptive and pleasing poem, entitled, the ^^ Two 
Dolls," in which this perishable perfection is very 
justly delineated. In one part it says : 

** A fei^er*s heat may ^3 the grace. 
And quickly change the hktst face." 


. . .^ , 

In anpther part : 

*< Nor can the loveliest form dispense. 
With wint of -virtue, nor of sense.'* 

And the moral of this (to me) valuable little poeni^ 
is particularly expressive : 

^ Be uniformlj good, perfection seek. 
And let the face a kindred mind bespeak." 


I know that many of my young friends will pause 
ujpon these pages^ and perhaps a few will refute my 
assertion^ that personal- beauty is of no consequence^ 
because their memory helps them to the recollection of 
numberless compliments^ addressed to them, on their 
entering the drawing-rooms of their mammas.-^^* I 
am sure" says Miss Patty Dazzle ^^ that whenever / 
go into the drawing-room, every body calls me a 
lovely creature, and they say I shall be quite beauti* 
ful:''— while Cordeli? QoMxelly, with equal truth, re- 
Wts to the many praises bestowed upon her person, 
under the appellations of—** a sweet little fairy,"— 
** an enchanting sylph," &c- ©cc. 

Admitting that these things do actuaUy occur, yet 
are they wholly unworthy of your regard, or remem- 
brance: they are frequently uttered by persons who 
have scarcely looked at you, and are merely the com- 
mon-place expressions of flatterers, who will not be 
at the trouble of discovering, whether you really pos- 
sess qualities that deserve praise. 

The graces of a cultivated mind^ are the beauties 


which adorn the features of the young, a. timid, yet 
chearful manner, a heart so practised in its duties^ 
that a parent's displeasure would, but I will not say 
what should constitute the perfection of infant beauty, 
but relate ray morning's perambulation faithfully, and 
leave the portrait for my readers to copy. 

In my way from the Park, I called ijpon a friend 
in Brook Street. Mrs. Warren was instructing her 
daughter on my entrai^ce. I apologized^ fearing that 
I should' interrupt the studies of Miss Warren, but 
my friend assuring'me that her daughter would knons 
how to dispose of her time, I took a seat, and entered 
into conversation with Mrs. Warren. I was not so 
much engrossed by the subject, but that I was at liberty 
to remark the manners of this child. I saw her take 
a dissected map and unite it with much facility. Sho 
then reached a book from the stand, and, retiring to 
a corner of the' room, I perceived that she was ac?» 
quiring some le3SQn, which I imagined to be poetry, 
by hoart. This done, she resorted to her slate, which 
was clean, and to which a sponge was suspended~-a 
custom which I sincerely wish was more general. He( 
calculation seeme>d quick, nor did I perceive that bef 
finger pUyed that sort of, gamut, sometime^ harmo*? 
nized on the frame of the slate ; on the contrary, 
her head appeared perfectly competent to the attempt, 
and as I saw her compare her sum with the assistant, 
and that a smile of expressive pleasure passed over her 
features, it was as satisfactory an answer to. my enqui* 



ring look as her's was to the book from which she 
sought her information. All this passed so smoothly^ 
with such an appearance of ease and method that I 
could not refrain from expressing my admiration of 
this amiable child to her mother. ^^ Julia is a very 
good girl," said my friend. *^ She knows that I love 
her too well to requirebf her any thing beyond her ca- 
pacity ; and she is equally sensible that it is her duty 
to attend to my wishes.'* Now Jiilia Warren is by 
no means handsome^ but I declare that as I gazed on 
this child, and beheld the modest blush which suf- 
fused her cheek at her mother's judicious praise, she 
appeared to me the handsomest child I had ever seen. 
^Her eyes sparkled with animation, her countenance 
was open and expressive^ ati^ though she did not as- 
sume in consequence of her mother^s approbation, it 
was very evident that she was gratified by it. Julia soon 
after quitted the room, as I learned from my friend, to 
-practise her music previous to the Arrival of her music- 
master. It was then that I was* fully gratified by the 
character of this amiable girU, Mrs. Warren spoke of 
her with freedom. She assured me that she could 
upt call to mind one instance in which Julia had ever 
disputed her wishes ; that her lessons were appointed 
for her, that she knew they were to be learned, and had 
a regular method of doing them. '^* If any friend fa- 
vours me with a call," continued Mrs. Warren, *^she 
avails herself of the immediate interruption, and turns 
to some other of her pursuits, I have never heard her 


express £sitigue while at her lessons ; in facl^ she has 
neVer caused me a sigh since she was horn, but when 
it pleased God to afflict my little treasure with those 
sicknesses incident to infancy/' 

Compliments^ smiles^ and praises^ are^ as I have 
illustrated) frequently applied to children; but^ in 
this case^ like a very bdd old woman^ as you will no 
doubt think I am^ I could not repress a rising tear ; 
the beauty of Julia Warren's mind claimed my de* 
lighted admiration, and as I looked forward, and an-* 
ticipated her gradual advancement into life — her i^iind 
expanding, and her intellects gathering strength, I 
saw her an ornament to society, a comfort to her pa- 
rents, and above all, when it should please God to 
call her hence, is she not of that class to whom the 
Omnipotent hath promised the <^ blessed hope of 
everlasting life," for *^ the pure in heart shall see 

Much as I have said of Julia Warren, greatly as I 
admire her unaffected and amiable character, I am noi 
so light an observer of causes and effects as to be in- 
sensible to the grand source of her present happi- 
ness. Her mother is at once the most gentle and 
discerning of women. She is a mother, with all a 
mother*s tenderness, but none of those weaknesses 
which destroy the power of a parent ; Julia- has 
never been indulged, consequently she has no ima- 
ginary wants. And though she is not the companion 


of servants^ she has been accustomed to administer 
to their comforts. She has been directed by her amia- 
ble mother to listen to the tale of jdomestic distress^ 
to give the comfortable cloathlng to the aged, to assist 
in making raiment for the helpless infant, to send 
coals to the shivering inhabitant of a chearless garret ; 
to do all this without an idea of ostentation, but upon 
the firm basis of Christian principles, that they were 
needy, and Heaven had blessed her with the power to 
snccoOT. them in their distress. 

I am so impressed with one species of vanity at this 
moment that I cannot forbear avowing it. I feel that 
I have engaged a number of admiring little friends- for 
the amiable Julia. I hear you all, as with one voice, 
exclaiming, "What a ''delightful girl!'* and a few, 
perhaps, are wishing ths^t they had the power to act as 
Julia does. Here my vanity subsides and my regrets 
will interfere. Alas I are not many of ye blind to the 
advantages ye possess ? Do not you expend your 
money in toys and trifles ? Are not sweets very tempt- 
ing ? Charity does not consist in giving away that 
\vhich you cannot! use yourselves. Such an action is 
' ofti?n performed by the most selfish and- illiberal x cha- 
racter, who from satiety and a love of novelty, gladly 
dispenses with that which is now valueless to him. Cha?- 
rity is th^ gentlest of all the virtues, the most retired, 
at the same moment that it is the most exalted, feeling 
of the human breast. It leads its amiable votaries to 
'forego or abridge their own comforts in order to be 


serviceable to others. It is secret in its offerings, be* 
cause it is conscious that even the most exalted deed 
that mortal can perform is poor, in comparison of 
those benefits which Providence has bestowed on thou- 
sands of happy beings; while that conscious peace 
which a duty so strictly'in obedience to the commands 
of God incites, exalts its amiable dispensers, -even in 
this life, to a rank to which no other application of 
the goods of fortune could raise them. They carry in 
thdr own bosoms^ ^^ that peace which the world can- 
not give/' And, indeed, [ would advise my readers 
to consider all the advantages of their variotia si- 
tuations in life. From those who possess but little, 
little can be expected ; but the purity of their inten- 
tions will enhance the gift, while such as own more 
extensive power, let them^ with equal humility, make 
their offering. 

I have another amiable and truly generous girl, to 
whom I will introduce my readers before I take my 
leave ; but as I have dready made this Chapter very 
diffuse, I must defer it for the present. 

-Though the particular manner in which I have spe- 
cified the foibles of persQnal yanity are strictly con- 
formable with truth, I have too much regard for the 
feelings of the parties to be more explicit. I am per- 
suaded this volume will fall into the hands of one or 
two at whom I have glanced, and as the understanding 
always slumbers where Vauity erects her throne, I sin- 
cerely hope that my little friends will demolish the 


tottering fabric^ and lay a foundation in their mindi 
less liable to decay. Almost every person is capable of 
admiring-a finished picture or a perfect character ; but 
if we are contented to admire^ nor seek into the re- 
quisite qualities which constitute the whole^ we shall 
remain superficial and light observers through life. 
We must reform our defects, not shrinking from self- 
examination, nor judging with partiality. We must 
not imagine that a day of repentance can eradicate the 
foibles which have been gaining upon us for months, 
perhaps years. Nor are we to be deterred from the 
attempt under the idea that the task is impracticable. 
Every thing is possible to a zealous heart ; and the 
path of virtuous duty is so blooming and pleasant, 
Hope strews her blossoms sobounteously where duty 
and a sincere desire of improvement actuates thq tra- 
veller, that I cannot conclude this Chapter without 
exhorting my little friends to commence their journey, 
and wishing them all the well-known happiness that 
ever results to travellers who take this road. 

< laa ) 

CHAP. xn. 

«< Time flies, oh kow swiftly r 

\L HOUGH I did once express an opinion^ that the Misa 
Barlows would become my regular correspondents, I 
no sooner recognised them at ray daughter's, and heard 
their conversation, than I dismissed the. idea, well 
pleased to escape a task so hopeless as that of correct- 
ing girls so evidently ignorant and self-willed. Mrs. 
Mordaunt, like myself, disapproved of their manners,, 
and, consequently, was sedulous in checking all inter- 
course between her family and the Miss Barlows. It 
is with sincere pleasure that I record this as the only 
correspondence from which I have receded. It is true, 
that Charles Osborn is prominent and giddy } yet one 


is more disappointed in finding a girl voluble and bold. 
No excuse can be made for females who act tlms. 
After being admonished^ had the young ladies in 
question evinced any symptoms of delicacy, I would 
gladly have volunteered my pen in their service. They 
have compelled me to leave them to their follies, and 
I much doubt if they willever own a friend who wiH 
be at the trouble of directing them to the attainment 
of happiness. 

It has often surprised me (even before I took upon 
me my present character) when I have of an evening 
reflected upon the unexpected variety >vhich has chec- 
quered the day ; but, really, since I have avowed, my- 
self a Spectator, it has appeared infinitely more obvi- 
ous than ever ; yet, perhaps, this is to be imputed to 
that watchful zeal with which I regard every thing 
which can possibly lead to my object. 

But while I have been thus active for my littlefriends. 
Time has not been idle. He has closed one year, and 
brought me to the opening of another. I must not 
suffer this cejtseless traveller to pass unheeded ; indeed, 
he has reminded me that a new year, is not the most 
ineligible season for a present, and I am now almost 
regretting "that I had not so arranged my plans, as to 
offer myself to^ your favour at the commencement of 
this vear. It cannot be, and I must endeavour to 
flatter myself that you will be glad to see me, come 
when I inay. 

It is so impossible to form an exact idea of the re- 


ception. I am tojcneet from my young patrons, that I 
really am growing yery timid as I refer to the number 
of pages written, and feel the propriety of drawing 
towards a conclusion. Perhaps, you will receive m^ 
kindly, and epcourage me to address you again; and 
it may so happen that my truths shall give offence, 
and you may reject me as a most impertinent old wo- 
man. I must await my fate, and, in the interim, as 
you have not the power to interdict my enjoyments, I 
shall continue to ramble in the Park, and make my 
circuits in certain squares; nay, it is very probable 
that I may jostle soiUeof rny young critics, for I am 
not an imaginary character. Sut let me ask of you 
tb4t respect due to, my age. Ah ! do not wound my 
ears by your safcasms.; I am persuaded, that, like 
Charles Osboni, you will often think you have disco- 
vered the Spectator, yet I wilF venture to affirm, that 
you never will fix upon the right person. As such, 
be very cautious in your observations, and though 
€ of you has sketched my figure in your own mind, 
do not let your fancies influence your judgment. To 
prove to you that I am prepared for the jibes and jeers 
of a youthful public, I am tempted to describe a few 
of those appearances, under which the " Juvenile 
Spectator'' will be sought by the younger branches of 
the "Argus" family. In the first, place, any elderly 
person who walks with a stick, and should chance to 
look about her, or who should take a seat upon one of 
the trees in the Park, or the benches io Kensington 


Gardeils ; if she appears thoughtful, or in the least 
observing, she will ini^tantly be suspected. Again, a 
person of morose countenance, or whose nose stibuld 
unfortunately happen to be rather longer than the gene- 
rality of noses, she will certainly be a suspicious sort of 
person. Harriet Mordaunt, who is always ready with 
some lively remark, declared, the other day, that she 
believed the ** Spectator" to be very much like " Mo- 
ther Goose'* in the pantomime of that name. I 
waited with some anxiety to observe the effect of 
this opinion. William, who was at home for a few 
days, and who was in fact the cause of their theatrical 
treati expressed himself somewhat warmly in reply. 
** I am sure you are quite wrong, Harriet," said he, 
" for though I h^ve no good reason for thinking so, 
I cannot help fancying that the * Spectator' is like 
grandmamma, an4 I believe it is that which makes 
me like her so mueh.*' Fanny observed, 'that it was 
quite ridiculous to speak of ** Mother Goose" and the 
/' Spectator" at the same time, and she was very sorry 
that Harriet had done 80% While Lucy, wha often 
surprises me by the justness of her sentiments, asked 
Fanny why she was -sorry about it. ^'Because/.* 
«aid Fanny, ** I ami afraid I shall in future always 
think of * Mother Goose' when the * Spectator*, is 
named." " I wonder at you, Fanny," replied Lucy, *^ it 
seems quite strange to me. The ^ Spectator' appears 
like a friend whom it would be very unkind to laugh 
at, but ^Mother Goose' is just the figure to make 



one laugh." ^^ Just so/' retorted William; ^< that is 
exactly what I mean. No one would expect * Mother 
Goose' to give advice to children ; and I am certain 
that the ^Spectator* is not a woman who could act 
the part of * Mother Goose/ " I took part in the con* 
versation at this juncture, and seized the passing mo- 
ment to illustrate the absurdities into which a false as- 
sociation of ideas must necessarily lead such young 
reasoners. I brought them to coincide in my senti- 
ments, and though the variety in their characters is 
striking, it was with unfeigned delight that I perceived 
each of them esteemed me under my assumed name. 
I could be as whimsical as the most lively of my rea- 
ders, and go on describing myself under my probable 
appearances in public ; but I must repress these juvenile 
feelings, for I hear a post-rap,, and the well known 
creak of Michael's shoes assure mcj that letters have 
been delivered for me. 

My sagacity must already be so obvious to my ^ 
friends, that I forbear Expatiating on the subject. I 
was right; — four letters are now laying on my writ- 
ing-table: — Mr. Testy's hand is now so familiar to me, 
that I instantly recognised it ; and, as I am rather in- 
clined to expect some pleasing consequences, from his 
whimsical proceedings with his young relations, I will 
give his letter precedence. 

To Mrs. Argus. 
I am sure you will rejoice with me on the suci^ess 


of my plan : — the rogues hs^ve paid my bill on de- 
mand^ and written me such a receipt^ that I actually 
believe I shall have it framed and glazed, and hung up 
in my drawing-room. I must |>e brief, as I have come 

to the resolution of -going into shire to-morrow, 

in order to do away all my cousin's 'schenjes. She, 
poor soul, is at last convinced of the necessity of curb- 
ing ihe iively spirits of her boys, and, like ^11 people 
whg have suffered their reason to slumber, she is now 
going into extremes, and has hinted, that she is about 
to place theni at a s^chool, fifty miles distance from 
their paternal home. -This must not be: I will have 
tbe boys with me for a few months; they shall be 
trained into the habits usual with well-educated child- 
ren, I will engage proper tutors for tlieir instruction? 
and when they ca6, with safety to their characters as 
gentlemen, and emulative sCiholars, be presented at a 
puUlic school, what pleasure I shall derive in the of- 
fice! I inclose their epistle, which will be more satis- 
factory than any thing I could say, and beg ta assure 
you, that I am, very respectfully,. 

Your obliged and obedient servant, 

Timothy T£sty. 

(Inclosed in the foregoing.) 

We are quite ashamed, dear cousin, yet we are de- 
termined to tell you the exact truth : we did think you 
•very cross and particular; but, indeed, we now know 
that you are perfectly right, A brother of our dear 


papa'Si has been here about a fortnight ; he is a very 
good man, I believe, only he has lived many years in the 
West Indies, and he is hasty, and speaks so quick, 
that we are quite afraid of him* He does not advise 
us what to do, but scolds at us, and calls us block- 
heads, and tells my mother that she is a foolish wo- 
man. Now this we cannot bear, because all she does, 
is out of kindness andvlove for us, so Joe and I spoke 
out the other day, and told him so ; hut he would not 
listen to us, and gave poor Joe such a pinch of the 
ear, that he cried out with the pain. All this made 
us think of yoi^ ; so we lalked together, and thought 
how very ill we had behaved, when you used to explain 
to us what we ought to do. Well, soon after comes 
your letter; — oh ! if you had but seen tis : — why, what 
%n expense ! Joe declares, that the very first money he 
ever has of his own, he will buy all the things you 
name, quite new, and send them to you. I do not 
wish to see you again, till we are able to pay for the 
damages we have done. I darre say we should both 
think more about the poney, only, just now, we can* 
not help fretting about something ;— but I suppos'e my 
mother has told you we are going to school ; — perhaps 
it is best, but I am afraid we shall be expected to 
know more than we do. You may be certain we will 
pay you whenever we can; — till thf n, good bye. 

EowARD and Joe. 
This letter was almost as acceptable to me, as it 


who were old. Lord M- , who is very keen, in- 
stantly proposedi that the pail should be carried by 
Osborn, to the brook in the adjoining field, that he 
should clean it from the dirt thrown into it, fill it 
afresh, and bring it to the stile for the woman. Osborn 
flounced at first, but Lord M , is one of the moni- 
tors, and indeed, we geflerally carry oiir point, when 
once we have formed a resolution. He took the pail, 
and muttered something about he wished his mother 
knew how ill he was used; "Po'h,^* says I, ** your mother 
is a woman, you know, and you hate ^11 women ;" 
** But she is a gentlewoman,'* said Charles. ^*And a 
pl-etty cub you are for the son of a gentlewoman/' re- 
plied Lord M -; "go, sir, go directly;" and he fol- 
lowed Osborn to the brook, stood over him while he 
performed his task, and walked by his side to the 
stile again." Osborn's parly were laughing in the hope 
that they should escape altogether, but we made two 
of them lift the pail over the stile, and, carry it to the 
door of the old woman's cottage. Lord M — -— told 
her,, that if she ever found them troublesome again, 
she was to go up to the schooLand ask for him : the 
poor woman was much surprised when Mordaunt, 
and Lord M ^ . , gave her some money ; I was sorry 
I had none to give, but I am very much limited in my 
pocket-money, and do not get itregularly ; I name this 
as an excuse, for I war really much ashamed at the 
the time. Well, we all returned to school, and re- 
solved not to take any further notice of the business,. 


i«^Wd knttor we had mortifiedJ-thfekf ftUoiwf fw^jkjiSjr: 
but in' tfce evening, MbcdaUttt Wld We^ hd wks'cerfttwi . 
that same pian was hi dgitAtidtl ftgaitiiSt the ^6{^t^6- 
man ; we kept a good look out^ and about half an)ibut 
before the last bell^ we r^n: d(>wn,tH^ village, and soon 
found our fears were right, for the glass of the case- 
ment, was almost entirely taken out of the window, 
and the cottage door, faced with mud and stones. 
While w© wei« thinking how td aei,' Oi^bortt WitJrdnc 
«f bis chumsy t;ati«' rdtittd ft6m tlie gardeflj-cach of 
themwit'ba'^dkundQr his arm 5 Jf yoii haiftui stth 
thenk^ *— they let go thc-bills of the diicks, . whiciK tn-i 
stantiy began quaidking; we sefeed them by tlieamis',^ 
and the poor womaii alarmed * by the' noise, opeti^d 
the bed-room window, we explained matters to her, 
and cleared her door, then orderiflg bur prisoifiers to 
marcih^ and promising to call at the cottage next moi^- 
ning, we proceeded -towards school. I belrevc Mor- 
dauntAnd I- laughed a Titlle and I remember v/e cal- 
led, tbec^ deserters, which so enraged Osborn, that 
he turned round and spit in Mordaunt's face; Mor- 
da|int could pot bear this, so they fell too^ ^nd Os- . 
born got jit .completely ; I never saw a neate^r thjaig 5 he; 
roared and cried all the way home| but poor Mor- 
daunt sprained his shoulder, which, however; will not 
be of any consequence, as the doctor has assured vw.;^ 
this accounts for my writing to you. Mprdaunt wants . , 
to know if he^shall acquaint his mother with particu-, 
lars, but He begs me to say he really does not feel ill. 


apd thinks it woald alarm her very much. I have 
made this a very long letter^ but I was forced to be 
explicit, as Nfordaunt would hot be satisfied with* 
out it. 

I am, madam, 
^ Your obedient servant, 
Dennis O'Bribn. 

. P. S. I should have told you that Osbom was much 
bruised and Lord M — ^ who came in to see how matters 
were going, made such a good. placard about him, and 
placed it upbn his bed-curtains, — for it was explain* 
ing, that the young woman-hater, had been indebted 
to the kindness of five women in less than an hour \ 
which was true, for one woman bathed his ancle with 
vinegar, another put brown paper to his forehead, a 
third cut away the hair, which had got mixed with a 
little wound in the side of his head, a fourth made him 


some whey, and Mrs. Horton who is the nurse, sat by 
him great part of the night ; so I think> he has very 
liule reason to speak ill of the women. 

. Throughout this epistle, there appeared to me, a 11. 
beralily and openness of character truly delightful. The 
accident under which my grandson was suffering, 
though treated lightly by his generous friend, yet awak- 
ened myf^rs ; and I instantly addressed a nQte to my 
daughter, to inquire how they all were, assured, that 
if any serious consequence had ensued, she would 


have been apprizec) of it by the fkiaster, and indeed I 
did not feel that I could make all the inquiries ne- 
cessary in a personal visits at least it was more than 
probable^ I should betray my fore*knowIedge. Mi* 
chael returned with a note which in a degree tran- 
quillized my feelings; they were all well. The 
next letter was fipom a new correspondent^ it ran 

To Mrs. Akgus. 

" Madxm^ 

As a great variety of characters must necessarily 
have come under your consideration, during your 
present inquiiy ; I take the liberty of requesting your 
advic^ as to what metfiod you would recommend to 
a person situated as I am. I have lately undertaken 
the charge of a young lady. Miss Caroline Cavil ; she 
is in her twelfth year, but certainly very unformed, 
both in mind and manners, yet, she never allows her- 
self to be in the wrong, hut justifies every foible, every 
mistake, with an address and volubility quite painful 
to those interested for her ; if she misreads a sentence, 
and receives a check from me, she instantly discovers, 
that it would be greatly improved by being corrected 
according to her readiug ; if a passage in her music is 
either beyond her capacity to perform, or that she 
omits some of the notes, tht tune is ugly, or she re^ 
collect th&i she played the same passage yesterday, 
exactly in the same way, and I did not find anv fault. 

K 2 


and she^^^f lam angry with her, and only find out 
occasion to oppose her j in short, iS^'iss Cavil, in her 
own opinion, never is wrong. You may easily ima* 
giae, how irkspme my task must he ; yet I am un* 
willing to resign this child, without giving her a lopger 
trial^ more especially as her parents* are very amiable^ 

« _ 

and I do not slirink from difficulties ; but, really, if I 
had not had some experience in the instruction of 
children, I should consider the present a hopeless case. 
Hie disposition of this young lady is entirely new to 
me. I have paid much attention to variouf ai^d ex- 
cellent writings o^ ^ducati^on, but a,m now more thaa 
ever certain, that a complete and practical system cau 
sever be generally applied : even in the same families, 
how different are the dispositions ! and I have from 
sad experience proved, that in moving from oae 
square to another, it is^possibile to find, a difference as 
great as between the polished inhabitants of aucient 
Greece, and the scarcely ratlona) native c^ Caf&aria, ' 
I should be greatly oblige^d by your answer^ mad^^ni^ 
and I beg to subscribe myself^ 

Your obediept servant, 

Mar'tha MoRRisoi;r* 

■ ■ street. 

'Portman square. 

The fourth, and last letter, was from Miss WUmot. 
1 feel that this young lady is a favourite with* my 
reader3,,and^ I in consequence^ transcribe her epistle. 

oru<rEig^iLi i^ptCTA-foK. 197 

: • ' ' » « • 

" . •- ■■ " ■ ' ' 

.,: ' T^ Mrs. Arous. - 

. Dear. Mad A M^ 

We are going into Wales, atid shall remain there 
mm/ inotitfas^ bert I cddd not leave town without 
acqnslinting you^ that I am quite Happy ; zny papa 
and momma, are pleased to express themselves satis-^ 
Sed with my conduct, and my dear Mrs; Arnold doed 
not find- feult with me very oi'ten", and when sh^ does> 
t kriow that she is perfectly right in all she says. I 
often think of my foolish pr^ndices^ and can never 
be sufficiently gfateful to all tbbsekind. friends, who 
.were at the troilible of direotinfg me how to conquer my 
faults. Nurse Jones really n]aik(*s me smile some<r 
times, she praises my mamma so jnuch, and declares 
that sl\e feels she was very wicked in speaking ill of a 
lady who was quite a stranger to her ; I hope I am 
now so well convinced of the danger of all preju- 
dices, that I shall never in future forget myself. Mrs. 
Arnold begs me to oiTer her compliments to you^ 
madam, and I trust you will believe, that I never 
jshall forget your kindness to 

Your most respectful, 

and obedient servant, 

Sophia Wilmot. 

The complaint of Mrs. Morrison, was of a nature 

that required consideration : I entered into her feel- 

'ing8, and was truly sorry, that a girl of Miss Cavil's 


disposition should be introduced to my acqunfif* 
ance at this period of my histoiy^ yet I resolved on 
answering her governess to-morrow. My best wishes 
attend the amiable Sophia^ whose vtdfare throigb 
life will always be a point erf' much interest with me; 
and now, though I have more than once declared, 
that I do not yield to unnecessary fears in matters 
which relate to my grandchildren, J must be ingenu- 
ous, I shall not be happy, till I call in ^— street. 
I know that a note may be conveyed from the school 
by the carrier ; and in fact there is a thousand ways ia 
which news may be brought, and as alt , these ways 
will suggest themselves to my mind, I must even ff^ 
aqd ^ti^y myself of particulaca., 



— T 

( »99 ) 

CHAP. xin. 


^'WfaatagoiMUy pyioq^ctipaiitdsAVMi&d** 

As t approached my daagbter's house, I saw a chaise 
drive ofi^ and^ with a palpitating hearty discovered as 
it passed me^ that it belonged to -— — .-«r— hut iipon 
entering the hall^ the servant quieted my fear^, by 
assuring me that Master Mordaunt was not ilh. I 
hastened into the drawing*room^ and found the young 
visitor^ surrounded by his . family, while a fine tall 
boy was in the act of reciting that statement, which I 
have already given to my readers. Now I know you will 
all laugh at me, but I ask you to recollect, that I am aa 
old woman, and, a grandmother. Well, to proceed, I 
forgot my original wish of concealment, and turning 
to my grandson, <^My dear William,'^ said I, ^< why 
^id you fight with that silly boy t)sboni, you should 
have treated him with silent contempt/' William was 
going to reply» when bis friend declared it was impos- 


r " - 

sible for any body to bear an insult like that, which 
Osbom had offered to him, *^ I must differ from you 
sir/' said I, *H he action was so beneath a gentleman, 
that I consider William to have degraded himself 
by resenting it '," the voune champion shook his 
head, while Williaiai '^th a ' Idolc of astonishment, 
asked how I had become acquainted with the cir- 
cumstance. The question absolutely called blushes 
into my 'cheek; I paused for a moment, and then 
in a half ,w!iisjyer told hini 'I wbuM explain the par- 
ticulars bye and bye. I wa^ now apprised by my 
daughter, that she received a note early in the 
morning from William*s master, saying, that he wa^s , 
a littte ifndispesed, in coiisccpiencc of having sprained 
hiB ln^df and that; as a yt^ung gei^tletnatn, on whom 
JieidiJuM depend, i^ras g6i«g to towti m a'fcw^hours, he 
»hout*fftit Madter^Mdrdauiit tinder Kis fcare^} h6 con- 
dud4aBf«addmgi''**at ^ s(ias'dif, Mdn^sudh ac- 
cia^HfK I»it)p6he4, wowW hite entiHed the puprb to a 
^W dny^rflakhfoh ftdWr sludf. I'hivc often observed, 
thAt^*#Werf'6iifed^one hn!i cbmmencfed by bliiildering a' 
secifet/'%*6'^o# ■ iC'uj^i 'by litrtnbWless. Wi^s ' of the ' 
tohMife/^ ^Tims'I addfc^ed WllKim'^ Goiiidatiidn'ia- 
Mr; 0*Brfen ; I wis right in my cofuj tcitate, it was 
my afiifefelfe co^fespoAidehtl and so' ihterestccf Wag 1 in " 
Ms plans; that withbtit considering how deeply t was 
pluuginoj, I b^ed to know !f he would clot remain * 
with Wiiiai^ during to siiort vacation : iny ditigh-'* 
t€fr;'who was equally pleased witi ifie jnannef ahd'afK-- 


peatance of this }nouth, secdndbd my proposal wtqi 
all thi^ eagerness of a mother j our efforts were urisiic- 
cessful> yef declined ^ith that Engaging mbdfcsty^ 
w&ifch yet more vrarrxiiy interested Us for hihi. He 
declared, he should be Very happy to accept our mvi- 
tation^ hilt that his guardian had called him to town 
suddenly, and he was afraid he should not return to 
gchobi agaifi. ^^l am ta gb to India,** continued 
yOun^ O'Brien, ^* my parents had gr^at irlterest there, 
and I hear it is the best that dan be done for me now.'* 
I thought there was an air of sadness' ih his counteii- 
atice, while giving this explanatioti, vC'hich seemed 
fbrcibly to express, that he did not like the decision^ 
We endeavoured to represerit the many advantages 
which might result from an eastehi residence, and 
that the earlier he went out the be^tttr. But' we could 
not convert him to Qur opiitiori, and as WilKam's 
lameness was not such as to affect his spirits,- We 
united in beguiling ttit time in as lively a way as jios-^ 
sible. At length Mr. O'Brien tobk leavd, after ha'^irig 
promised to engage his guardian's perinissiori to 'dirie 
with the Morcaunts next day. ,• . • ' 

"Now grandmamma," said William, as tW dboi? 
closed upon his friend^ *' now tell me how you kneW 

so well what hid happened at-; . I have long had my 

suspicions about you," continued the smiling: boy. 
'^ I should be very unfit for that character which I 
have assumed/' I replied/ " if I was to bo disingenu* 
ous on any occasion j Will you alF conlinud^ to' love 


your grandmother, when you hear her declare that 
she 18 the Spectator.*' '< I thought so/' says William^ 
clapping his hands, ^^I knew it, it was so like your 
manner, and the hand-writing altogether, I have 
often said to myself that it must be you." '< Dear 
grandmamma,'' said Fanny, '* I am quite happy to 
find that you are the Spectator." *' Why so, my love,*' 
said I. ^^ Because,'' replied Fanny with a blush, *< I 
would rather that you knew my faults than any body 
else in the world." ^' You know that I once told 
you in a letter, that I thought you like Grandmamma 
Harley," said Harriet; while Lucy declared, that she 
had most reason to rejoice, as her foihles had beea 
much worse than any of her family's. ' *^ Upon com- 
parison, my dear children,'^ I interjoined, *^youc 
^andmother has much reason to be satisfied ; I can- 
not term any of your little errors more than foibles ; 
they had not amounted to faults, and I am so persuaded, 
that your own sense of rigbt> ,and the certainty that 
nothing but my love for you actuated me to adopt 
the plan, which has so happily answered my expecta^ 
tions, that I shalV resign my fictitious name, with the 
full conviction, that as children who love their pa- 
rents, and creatures whom God has endowed with 
the power of reflection, you will henceforth ^ct; 
igreeably to reason. I admit, that it was not my in-- 
tention to make myself known^ your sagacity has de- 
feated my plan, which is, in a degree^ a disappoint-* 
mentj 9fi Mrs. Bently, who has greatly assisted my 


\ ♦ 


^ ' ' 


. -^ 

* , , 


JUVBKILE spbctator; «|03 

views during my spectatoral inouinesy has-been very 
anxious that I should publish the result. Will you 
i^ee to this ?'* I asked, turning to my little audience, 
** Oh ! dear !" said the children in one voice, **why 
people would know us, and we should- be quitc^ 
ashamed tobe seen/' My daughter, who had really, 
been as much surprized by my avowal as her family^ 
now entered into the subject, and learning that I had 
actually arranged my papers so as to form a volume, 
she suggested, that, by changing the names of the 
parties, I might yet prosecute my intention^ The 
children readily assented to this, and were soon brought 
to laugh in idea as they anticipated the publication oi 
their letters. 

I could not take leave of these dear creatures with*/ 
out making some observations on the general conduct 
of my grandson as .a school*boy. I applauded his 
judicious choice in his friends. I commended bis 
zeal in the service of the poor old woman. Each of 
these traits in his character evinced manliness and hu* 
manity, principles always synonymous^ for the brave 
are uniformly generous and compassionate. His 
watchfulness in endeavouring to guard the cottager 
from the further cruelty of li^er petty agressor was com^ 
mendable ; but I could not 4inderstand the necessity 
of his fighting with an ill-bred coward, admitting that 
he received an insult. It should be remembered, that 
we are expressly forbidden to resent an injury ; and 
that the most, perfect being that ever wore the human 

204 ' juvjniiXB apscrA^roAk 

fomn wioff^pci^^ted^.iieviledi put tQ'/bodUy! p»iii> 
atid fkiafiy to: death ;r' yet he , neUbQt^ fevjkid ag^ki^ 
nor 'Wftb wrought to anger during aiay of tihft; stog^ o€ 
bisi ftuffernigg'5 and baa left' us in tlm, as in every re-^ 
eaidi )of '. iliis I f)evfbct life, a point for oiir ' admiratiiOB^ 
and an example for our humble imitation^. . 
. ItisbycommaBding our passions; tl^t tx^ prove 
the strength of our reason^ Soimany causs?^ tri- 
via} in themselves^ have led to that most criminal 
of all contests^ duellings that I cQnsider the govern^ 
meat of >lbe temper a mattev of most serious £onae«> 
cjuence with', boys ia i)articalaf: Very few of the 
dauaes ^ whieb^; induce- boys: to ^bt .but would^ upon 
reflection^ appear in. a very ridiculous and' laughabte 
point of. view/' Here Willialn, interrupted liie. 
^f What do yo«i tbink^ graodmamma, ibat to have a 
feUb\is^ kss: than myself^ spit kk, my Ssuxt was a thing 
toil bo laughed atf^ ^*L think so, my. dsar/^ said I^ 
^^hkrid f4»r the vevy reason you. have ata^ed ; he. was 
less than >you^; was not only an uagentlemanlike 
action but"a:bfiby's revenge, and.your contempt would 
have mortified him much more than your resentment ; 
mom especially as, according to that code of honour 
observed by vschool+boj'S, he gained somejadvantage 
over y«wi.'* ^^ ^^ Over me," said Wiilian), '^ not he 
indeed «; I trouticed him completely.^' '^ Yet, he 
eoiitrrvedito lame you," continued I. ^^ Not fairly,'* 
replied my grandson ;.^' be tripped me iip, as C^Brien 
and Lord M-7-^i)oth agree, and we all of us ma<te 


Obom confess that he had been beaten*'^ •' Thai 
Mi^s air ungenerofis triumph^ William, for these fatiW 
alwstyi ^eak for themselves/' *^ Yes, with a fellow 
who has a spark of courage,'* rejoined William, *• but 
we stn Endw Osbdrii 60 wellj, that if he had been Itft 
to teH 'the story he* would have turned it to his owri 
advknta^/*- ** Here, agiin, your argument is weak, 
itry ehild,'^ I added; '^ So you comfpelled a covv^lra - 
who is in the habit of misstating things to declare^- 
that you Were able to conquer him. It is an advantage* 
which atiypiSrsoTi might attain over 'a boy of such a'* 
character, who, to spare himself and avoid the diffi-' 
culties of tii^ present moment, wtttild say any tWng/' 
WiUiattr/ at length, allowed that what I said appear^- 
very right, but that it was not possible to do so at 
schbdli I fear he is right, but the reason is, old ha^ 
bdfe are ntot easily effeced, andit'has been so long the* 
custom to 6air brutality courage^ that until we can fii»€* 
a better' distinction far ill is inherent quality of 'fh^' 
rti^sctiRne mirid, we must feave schoolboys • to • fight' 
tlieir Battle^,' even as they have dotiefor centitriesi • - 

The Moi'daunts now in the confidence of the ntys- 
terious Spectator, were impatient tc( know when F 
would give my papers imo the hands of a'- bookseller/ 
I promised them that I would be expeditious, as P 
easily foresaw that, like all childfeh, they wbuld reckon, 
tiine by their own feehngs. • ' 

On vsxj return home I dedicated a few hours to ^ut-*' 
tirijg names in those blanks which I biad ornitted uiittl 

99t Jt7VSNII<£ SP£CTATO&« 

this period ; but I beg it to be understood that mj 
respect for all my correspondents led me to be equally 
scrupulous with them ; not a name will appear in this 
volume which can be traced. 

I was certainly very well pleased with the general 
success of my plan, yet most ingenuously confess, and 
I hope I shall be pardoned, when I declare that my 
<^hief source of satisfaction was derived from the general 
improvement of my grandchildren. My ^daughter had 
taken the opportunity of their cas.ual absence to assure 
me, that Fanny was indefatigable in correcting her 
habil of sitting, speaking hastily to her sisters, &c. 
That Harriet was punctual in her lessons and quite sa- 
tisfied with on^ half* holiday in a week ; and Lucy not 
only generous to objets who claimed her little power 
to be serviceable, but uniformly liberal in all her 
childish plays with her sisters. William had already 
expressed his honest shame at having ever raised his 
hand to a girl — adding, at the' same time, his sincere 
wish that his father might never hear of it. *^ For I 
am certain he would be very angry, and perhaps pre« 
vent my wish of being a sailor,'^ continued the peni- 
tent boy. 1 coincided in this opinion, for thy son-in- 
law is an ornament of that profession tp which he be- 

I dedicated an hour next morning to writing in reply 
to Mrs. Morrison, but I must beg to insert this epistle^ 
as I do not consider it of less importance than some 
others for which I have asked your patient attention. 





The subject of your favour would have given me 
very serious uneasiness/ had yod not intimated that 
you were not hasty in yoi^r resolutions. I rejoice at 
this, as I trust that your perseverance and firmness qf 
principle^will eradicate those foibles which at present 
deform the character of your pupil. 

We will not seek into the causes which have pro-> 
duced these unfortunate effects. There is lio time to 
be lost. My advice, which you do me the honour of 
requiring, is simply this. If Miss Cavil remains in- 
setisible to gentle remonstrance, I would recommend 
that you should at all times insist upon her proving 
every argument that she advances, and this without 
regard to the situation in which she may s^f the mo- 
ment be placed. I grant that her feelings may be very 
painfully wounded, as there <;an be no doubt of her ig-- 
Borance by the manner in which she conducts herself. 
But as it is evident that she cannot be a respecter of 
the feelings of others by the rudeness with which she 
treats you, it is equitable in every point of view, that 
she should be taught that most useful of all lessons, to 
** do to others/* &c, - I have seen many instances 
in which a little personal humility has answered' 
the best of purposes ; and as I am persuaded that 
thoughtlessness of character is often classed under 
a tei;m more offensive, I am willing to hope that Misa 
Ca^^il has^heen neglected in her educational and thai 

i08 JunsNiti sPRcfAVMi. 

your zeal and good management will 'efface these un- 
promising appearances. With sincere wishes -that 
your task may become more pleasant^' and that my 
advice may prove wholly superfluous, by your pupil's 
having exerted herself to acquire your esteerb, I re- 


Your obedient servant, 

AtCABBLhA Argus. 

I had almost forgotten to sketch the portrait of dne 
of my fiivourites, which I half promised in a former 
Chapter. I hope that Julia Warrfen is yet in the re- 
membrance of my young friends. I am now to speak 
of her cousin. Sciphia Welmore is a girl who pos- 
sesses som^ qualities rarely to be met with in those of 
h^r age. 1 have known her many years, and she rs 
now inher thirteenth y^ar._ I havef s^en hef {Barents 
ptfcsetit ber with money,' sometimes a guinea, at other 
times half tliat surh ; and I have known her, uninflu- 
enced by any advice whatever, devote it to the noblest 
purposes of humanity, in concert with a favourite 
nursery-maid, with whom she was never unbecomingly 
familiar. ' She has*, on .a Saturday evening, sent a 
Crown to a poOr family, with whose troubles she 
made herself acquaiht^ , She vi^as accustomed to cal- 
culate' what Would purchase a loaf and a joint of meal ; 
to make and send a frock for one of the children. 
Even \th'en the sickriess of onfi .of her pensioners was 

foW to be^ «feeh«Kl tbeithonght to send^atid inquire 
whkt sheoould'dd fcyt tteSp»<«>ttiforti I retnemberonfe 
ihkanc^ in l^hich ci <ihair for tfhe Support of a very 
srkfe And di^trfeftfeed womaa wafr required. -• I saw her 
obtain the fyennission of her amiible mother to send 
one to the invalid^ and I shall never forget the pleasing 
atiimation of her Countenance; I likewise heard from 
^lie excellent* ydiing woman, who was her agent in aH 
these cases, iio^ effedtual the services of £t child had 
proved to ^family in crrcmtistances of the deepest dis- 
tt^te. t imi^ute much of -this amiable philanthropy 
tor the good example sh^d hasi in her mother. I wish I 
could impresi npon my young friends how much they 
have it' in their power to help their fellow-creatures, 
^{>hia Wfelmore, to my knowledge, never expends a 
penny in any eatable whatever for herself. She hii$ 
be^h taught to understand that the ^le prepared for 
Het' by tbe^ or Jer of her pdrents it tb sufflec. Thui*, 
«he ba^ nonfe of those Epicurean longirtgs after good 
iklh^s which so- frequently disgraeie chiWren ; and hii^ 
happiness i^ corisequently iarach, encrcaised by thi^ 
jAdicious pljtsr, for hovir often does sickness Succeed i& 
theseluxurtoiis'Jteastk. 1 cottld cnuinerateiiiafny in- 
stances of Sophia Welfaiort*s liberality, but! afn now 
sb near the concluiion of nnify task that I must realFy 
curb my inclination which would certainly lead me to 
pursue a subject so grateful to my feelings ; and what 
I wish particularly to recommend to the imitation of 
my readers is this— That as the happy circumstances 


of that class of children to whom I particularly Wdress 
myself^ exempts them from experiencing any of the 
real miseries of life^ I advise them to consider all tVie 
advantages of their situation, ^and like my amiable So-* 
phia, exert their little power in purposes so agreeable 
to the dictates of humanity. 

I aui now compelled to close this Chapter^ as it is 
proper, before I take my final leave of you, that 
I should make one morning's perambulation in thai 
circle from which I have drawn a great part of my spec- 
tatoral information. So, for the last time, imagine 
to yourselves, that you see Goody Argus setting off 
upon her tour of inquiry. But do not expect too 
much. Travellers are often very unfortunate in the 
hour which they choose for their depatrure ; yet I 
am vain enough to imagine that as my road is one of 
my own planning, as I have never called in the as- 
sistance of any artist to aid my views, I repeat, that 
under all these circumstances, I presume to think that 
I have a right to expect some encoun^ement from the 
juvenile world. 1 do not aspire to a rctjfol letter pa- 
tent, but shall certainly fed much disappointed if I 
attain not that patent so much in your power to be- 
slow, namely, your patience to my miscellaneous 
subjects, and your cordial belief that Arabella Argu« 
if the sincere friend of chUdreut 

( 2" > 

iimAB XIV. 

A iledleym 

jThe unsettled situation in which we left Master 
Ashton some time since^ made me resolve upon call* 
ing in — — square this morning* I did so ; and^ 
much to my regret, I found young Ashton making^ 
preparations for bis going to school^ Lady Ashton 
assured me, that it was entirely against her wishes^ 
but that they had been so unfortunate in their tutors, 
that Sir George had lost his patience, and was now so 
determined, that she had lostdl influence with him. 
She intreated me to exert myself in her interest; thia 
I declined^ considering it a matter of much delicacy. 


and indeed my respect for the feelings of the boy, 
(who appeared to enter but languidly into the arrange- 
ment) would have deterred me from an interference so 

The entrance of Sir George restrained the impor- 
tunities of his lady. — ** JSo you find we have decided 
at last," said the baronet ; ^^ our wrong-head is going 
to school.'^ I bowed.— ^' You *4o not approve of the 
measure^ I perceive/* continued Sir George. I re- 
plied, with sincerity, ^* that I considered the parents, 
in these cases, ought to be the best judges." The 
baronet smiled, and telling his son to retire, he spoke 
unreservedly on the subj^cf : but, when I heard that 
there had been six tutors engaged and dismissed, in 
the course of six months, I could not but imagine, 
that the mistaken tenderness of the parents, must 
have united with the wbiiih^ of the boy, to occasion 
a change so frivolous, if not disgraceful ; and I really 
considered^ that the chrrld must be beheflted^ by 
being removed to a school, whfere, at Je^st, he MuSt 
acquire one beAefici^ l^san, — ^huthiUty.' In' faet, 
there i« s<sarc^ly a iword dah^ei-ois sort of kh6>^fedge, 
thafi thai lirhich' the • td<y gi^eat indiilgfehce 6f parents 
frequently lndu<?es;— I liiekri, that 'bf 'kttlrig child- 
ren fed ihtit ittiportancej theif pow6r, over bur hearts, 
if not our understandings. I know thai it would be 
difficult tOf prov^ this to tWany parents; but "the sea- 
son may Arrive, In wfech their btvn disappbtntinent 
will corroboratef itiy assertibn/ *'• ' ^ 


JThat Siy GeG|rge ^d I^dy A«htpn wiU ej^perience 
this,, in a (J^gree proportioACid, to their w^^ guardian- 
ship of their soi\» qa^qpt be doijhted- I left young 
Ashtpa tp hi^ ^9^te,,.and .pfjo^efid^fi to the bcn>se Q^ 
M,F§. J^arlpw. It c^ninot be a^pposed tb^t I was. iii- 
flue^jiced to this.cfill by my esjteem foj tl^esp ypung 
ladies: — no; I must qonfe^s that a^W)tive of curiosity 
led me thither. I ^w I^dy i^iiston d,light from her 
carriajge, and- enter their bo^^e j ai:^d> a? I had J)revi- . 
ously^spp^qn to her, lacJj^&biPfv ^n4:befia.iP»^ch Jjleaaed 
by her ipanners, I ivyaj^^oWy^If^oC ^b^ OfpPrtunity 
ojF agaipjepjpy'^ig l^^r.ppi^Y?)r^9.ti^^ 
add^ tbat I pur>pp?ed,. cQi^si^t^j^tJy. with ; politeness, 
to n^ake some iqq^uiries after Miss 0$bar|i| as I knew 
she wa? acc][uainft}d witb the fapaijy. I'found the Miss 
Barlows whoUy .unf ipplpy e4, t^^gh it. was. morning ; 
they appeaire^ tp^fljieaj ^}ir wc^iti.^g in .tbfe expectatioiL 
of co.D^pIiim^njt^.^frpm^.t^eir x^^ for I 

obsery^ed i\x<x\X^y,^^^^A^^op^^&J9^h\\^ hoUi.^hcir 
heads very higi^^ \x;kSdi^t^^ quite ^pyor>4 wfeat is;gr-ace- 
ful; ^^d they werp.QPfitflauailjy.SP^^ 

with snvill pocket- co^ihs,;-^ OMStpii^ (sluing aside the. 
vanity of the action) l?ii&Wy m4^?3,je^ Whega Lady 
Liston addre.s§£4 berSjClf tq ei^h?r qf |he.m> they an- 
swered in a v^ice §ca)D<}ely to be hearc};^ wbilejthe cour- 
tesy tha^ accpmp?^,eir reply^ wais. the most fan- 
tastical moveipent I eve;r beheld;— Sjv^ch a §lide, or 
rs^tber a retrograde sweep*. 

I had uot di^i;qi^p^? singularity of this niodem 


courtesy from my mtnd^ indien Lady Liston, turning 
to me, observed, '^ that even the fashion of courts* 
sying, was greatly changed since our juvenile days.*' 
Mrs. Barlow interrupted my intended reply, by re- 
marking, /^that there had been much done in the 
science o£ dancing latterly; that all its branches had 
been greatly improved; and that the carnage of the 
females of the present day, was grace personified. 

Lady Liston and I contt^ded for old times: we 
agreed that a courtesy, fofmerly, was a serious move* 
ment, observed from a motive. of respect, and per- 
formed with a mild and graceful deportment ; that the 
present mode of salutation ix^s* highly affected, and 
in itself expressed, that it was made under an idea 
(though certainly a -mistaken one) of looking very 
elegant. I saw that the young ladies had decided 
upon our sentiments, as those of t\k> disagreeable old 
women; but we^were indifferent as to their opinion. 
I took occasion to inquire of her ladyship, concerning 
Charlotte Osborn, and had the pleasure of hearing, 
that this amiable child continues to improve, under 
thcNgood care of Miss Watson. Lady Liston further 
informed me, that Charles Osborn had come home 
for a short vacation, and been made the unconscious 
bearer of his own disgrace; for the letter which the 
master gave into his charge, acquaimed his father of 
his irregular cohdiict, and quarrelsome disposition, 
ahd recommended to the general^ , to use his parental 
influence to check these faults, in order that the young 


offender might be spiHred the odium of public dis- 
grace. . - * 

What a painful feeling must this excite in the bo- 
som of a piairent! Surety the child, who has once 
occasioned an anxiety of this kind^ will '^ take heed 
to his iifzys, that he offend not again /^ 

I endeavoured to gain some information of the 
Murdock family^ but I kamed that the young ladies 
had had a disagreement^ and^ to my utter astonisli- . 
ment, their young revilers, declared, ** they were the 
most disagreeabte girls in the world ; — that they 
could neither dancer play upoi^ the piano, or sing; — 
that, in short, they were' quite like Hottentots/' *' I 
hope not,^* said I^ ^^ for I trust that they can say their 
catechism and their prayers." ^* O, we never asked 
them that,** said the Miss Barlows. " Yet, they 
are questions of much more importance^ than those 
to which yoti allude," interjotned Lady Liston^ 
** Why, to be sure, every body knows their cate- 
chism and their priayers," said Helen Barlow. *^ Ii 
is necessary to practice their tenets, ^as well as to re-- 
peat their form,'* said Lady Liston, '^ and, I imagine, 
that our duty tb our neighbour does not inculcate ma- 
levolence; by which I mean, that it is contrary to the 
character of a good christian, to speak ill of any one: 
the term, neighbour, does not imply those only who 
live near us, but includes all those with wliom we 
associate, 9r with whom we have dealings. Na- 
ture is supposed to direct our conduct towards those 

related to us ^ but that fellowship, or iriendship^ which 
confmon humanity dictates^ is not the least graceful 
ornament of the human character." 

Mrs, Barlow reproved the volubility of, her daugh- 
ters, but, I am sorry to say^^ that.thp eflPect; it pro- 
duced was transients L^dy. Listen and I took leave 
at the same time : on her Wyship's perceiving that I 
proposed to walk, she insisted upon putting me down ; 
au oiTer I did not reject. Our conversation turned 
chiefly upon the education of qhilciien; bi>t I. will not 
repeat what passed, as I am;uuwUlii^ to ^alarge^upoa 
the subject at presents Our seutimcnts v^ere so per* 
fecUy in unLson, that we were. quite akl ac quaintance 
before we reached my daughter's. As we drew up to 
Mrs. Mordaunt's my grandchild recogx^sed Michael 
behind the coach. — ^* Here, is grandmamma,'' was 
the exclamation from the balcony. I^dy List on 
reg^ded my beloved family with so much interest, 
and, having already intimated her. wish, of further- 
ing her acquaiqtaace vfitbi me, I yielded to the imr 
pulse of the moment, and. asked her to dispense with 
form^ and permit me tp introduce her to my daughter. 
To this her lady;&hip assentpd; apd we entered the 
drawing-room of ;Mrs. Mqrdagiit together. The 
children who wece prepared to receive me, with their 
usual and affectionate salute, retired respectfully as 
they perceived that I was not alone ; butj after the 
introduction was 'over, they eachcWi»ed their privi- 
I^ge, and I, saw, by t he manner ^ JHawiet, that she 



had some matter . of moment to impart.*— '^ Well^ 
Harriet,^ said I, ^' is your communication of a na- 
ture to interest the present company?'* ** I think 
so^" said the little fairy^ ^^ for it is about William's 
friend^ O^Brien/' ^* Then tell your story clearly, and 
in as few words as possible,'' I continued ; '' for 
though I am always disposed to attend to my de^ 
children^ I do not feel that it is proper to draw upon 
the tinie of others." 

Lady Liston looked towards me, as if fearful of be- 
ing considered averse to. the habits of children; but I 
. checked her purposed acquiescence, by observing^ 
that there was much danger in suffering children to 
imagine, that they possess great powers to entertain : 
their wit may amuse, and their whims, sometimes 
evince genius, but neither of tjiese qualities are essen- 
tial to their happiness; on the contrary, they fre- 
quently diminish it, by encour^iging the seeds of vanity 
to take root, which always leads to mortification, if 
not to cpntempt. Harriet Mordaunt, however, as if 
perfectly competent to distinguish. between what wa^ 
seasonable, and what was not, proceeded to explain^ 
that Mr. O^Brien was then with William in the li- 
brary, that her mamma had been questioning him, as 
to what profession he would prefer ; "and only think, 
grandmamma," said the little orator, " 0*Brien 
\vould like to be a sailor; so, you know, papa will be 
home soon, and he can take him on board of his 
ship, aud when William is' ready to go, they wHl be 

S18 jurs^t^ B#te^crATOR^ 

so glad to meet again/* *' This is a Vtry delightiiil 
plan,** said I, ^* if it can be eflfected; but I hope you 
have not told Mr. O'Brien of it, until his guardiau's 
consent can be attained.** My daughter now ex- 
plained, that Bhe purposed to inquire ititq the pro- 
spects of heir youtig favourfte ; and, if she found that 
no pr^-arranged plan would be destroyed by her pro- 
position, to submit her wishes, and the power she 
possessed, to serve Mr* O'BVien,' if his inclination 
really led him to prefer the navy. Lady Liston in- 
quired *to what family he belonged ; and, as Jive could 
not satisfy her in this point, the young gendemen 
wcris summoned from the library. ^ You are the son 
of Colonel 0*Bricn?** said her ladyship, rising, and 
taking the hand of the amiable Dennis, as he ad- 
vanced towards a seat. *^ I am, tnadam,** said the 
youth. ** And your mother's name. was Fanny Lis- 
ton, before marriage?'*^ '^^es madam; and my 
name is Dennis Liston 0*Brien.** ** How extraordi- 
nary!" continued her ladyship ;" your mother was 
a cousin of my husband's: tell mc; child, how have 
you been thus long a stranger to me?'* Young 
O^Brien could not answer to this inquiry of her la- 
dyship's; all he knew was, that he hud been nursed 
in India, and sent home to Ireland, at the age of five 
years; ihat he had been apprised of his parent's death, 
before he was seven years old; and brought to En- 
gland, three years previous to th6 present time; 
that he was informed that his patrimony was very 

small^ and taught tabelijeve, that India was the place 
in which he would be n^ost likely to succeed. ^* Does 
the plan ncieet youx wishes/* asked her ladyship, *^ No 
xnadaa^^" said CVBrien, *^ I wish to go into the 
navy 2'' ^* Your feelings shall be consulted,'* continued 
the amiable fcady Listoq,, *' ypu mu^t in future re* 
member that you ac^ my relation^ and thait I possess not 
only the inclination, hiit the power to serve you/' 

I am afraid^ ^^^^ ^^^ Charles Osbor?,, been pre- 
sent at this iQQsp^, be wQuld bavq pronounced Mr. 
O'Brieiv, q^itea sneaka/^cordingto bis. usual language; 
yety. I am persjuaded, tij^ many of my young 
friendsg, will entertain an opinion of a very qpnti^ary- 
nature, whe^ I explain, that tbj^ )eind, words^ and 
truly maternal manner of Lady Liston, so overpow- 
ered her newly discovered k^lnsman, as to occasion 
him to shed teats, nor did he endeavour to conceal 
them. Nay, I declare, we v(^er>e all deeply afff^ted 
by the scene, w^le William, with a warmth, whijch 
did him honor,, assured he^ ladyship that she would; 
love O'Brien better, the loitiger she knew him. As 
we took leave, Fanny whispered wi/e, that she haped 
I would mMi omit to mention all. that i^ela^e.d %q, this 
morning, in my intended publication, I a^ssured her 
I had been too mi\ch gratified by ihe happy, conse-^ 
quences of my introduction, to neglect a feet, so trujy 
interesting. I was so intent upon concluding my ca- 
reer as a Spectator, that I withstood xthe united entrea- 
ties of the Mordaunt fi^mily to remain, in *^^— street 

L 2 


all day. I was conveyed to my own house by Lady 
liston ; in the course of our little ride^ she gave me 
the heads of her history^ but as they were irrevelant 
to the tastes of a juvenile, reader^ I suppress them, 
and will only add^ that I felt very happy^ in having 
been tKe cause of a meeting so apparently fortuitous ; 
and sincerely hope that^ under Providence, it may 
lead to consequences, honourable to both parties. 

I had just inserted the foregoing statement, and 
was pausing upon my elbow, and half wishing that I 
had received one more communication from Mr. 
Testy, when behold, without the aid bf the ^* empe-v 
ror of the conjurors,** in comes Michael, with the 
identical letter. I broke the seal, and read as fol- 

To Mrs. Argus. 

My dear Madam, 

You will dp me the justice of believing me sincere, 
when I declare, that it is always most grateful to my 
^feelings, to speak favourably of every body, I may 
have appeared ratlier ki'itable at times, but indeed my 
good madam, thet« are many real causes for regret^ 
in the education of children, generally speaking. 

I am now, however, so happily disappointed in those 
for whom I am more immediately interested, that 1 
cannot forbear assuring you of it. My young cousins . 
are at present, inmates of my house, they have mas- 
%U8 who attend them daily ; in those hours set a part 


for recreation, T ara delighted Uf pcrce>ve their talents 
directed to laudable and rational pursuits. I ara re- 
treading my juvenile path, we. are frequently play-fel- • 
Iowa, and the young rogues are now so convinced of 
my afleetion for them, and so desirous of my appro- 
bation, that I am afraid they wiB reverse the business, 
and spoil me, for I am already beginning to count 
the weeks which remain, e're they arc to be admitted 
at I .^ But I must be firm, and I know, no 

more likely method j to re-asaure me, that order and 
diicipline are indi&pensible with boys; (I say tio- 
thitig9f girls) than a morning range, amongst- the 
circle of dear kind-feeling mammas, who pet their 
overgrown babies, to the annoyance of all their ap- 
quaintance. I am persuaded you will partake in ray 
present kappiness^ and beg to assure you, that 

I am, most 

respectfully yoUr*s, 

Timothy Testy, 

I certainly was very well pleased to hear, that this 
gentleman had such good reason to be satisfied with 
his young relations ; and have no doubt, but that his » 
watchful Zealand affection, will in" time perfect his 
hopes in them. 

But I must now address myself to my readers, and 

as a womnriy more especially to those of my own sex', 

I know it is very usual to say, that a young lady has 

finished Jier education ; there cannot be a more errb- 

L 3 * 


neous assertion : we know^ that a period in the lives 
of young people must arrive, in which the atlend- 
,an<ie of masters and governesses is discontinued. 
What then, are they to set down io forget what they 
have acquired, or are they to be contented with 
what they already know, and make no further en- 

Restraint is a feeling against which almost * every 
disposition is inclined to contend ; and the period of 
emancipation from ^ regular business, and stated days 
for particular studies, appears to the emerging scholar 
the first and most desirable happiness < alas ! how 
cruel do you consider the - person, who attempts to 
throw shade into .this smiling perspective ; nor would 
any argument, though sanctioned by the most pro- 
found judgment and experience convince you that 
the season of youth is the happiest of your lives. I 
know / should lose even that little share of your fa- 
vour, which I have (perhaps vainly) taken to myself, 
it I was 'to'eplarge upon this, theme; and I, am too 
well cotivinced of the effect of an unfavourable impres- 
sion, to hazard your displeasure in this stage of my 

But with all those eyes, attributed to my Jictitious^ 
name, I look into futurity, I read in the characters 
of a Sophia Wilmot, a Julia Warren, a Sophia Wel- 
more, and, I trust, in all the Mordaunts, that amia- 
bility of disposition, and firmness of principle, which 
will lead ihem to seek knowledge at every period of 


their lives ; that tbey will continue to be comforts to 
their parents, and an honour to human nature. I 
cannot resist transcribing in ;this place> a few lines 
from that admirable fable, /^ The Bee^ the Ant, and 
the Sparrow/^ I take my quotation from that part 
where the Bee addresses the Ant. 

'* Ah! sister-labourer/' says she, 
" How Tcry fortunate are we ! 
Who taught in infancy to know 
The comforts which from labour flow; 
.^■e independant of the' great, 
Kor know the wants of pride and state. 
Why is pur food 80 Tery sweet? 
Because we earn, before we eat. 
Why are our wants^so tcry few ? ' 
' Because we nature's calls pursue. 
Whence our complacency of mind f 
Because we act our parts assigned. 
Hare we incessant tasks to do ? ' 
Is not aU nature bu«y too ? 
Doth not the sun with constant pace. 
Persist to run his annual race ? 

Do not the stars which shine so bright, ' 

Renew their courses erery night ? 
Doth not the ox obedient bow, 


His patient neck^ and draw the plough } 

Or when did e^er the generous steed. 

Withhold his labour or his speed ? * 

If you all nature's system scan, 

.The only idle thing is— man.** • 

Every line of this applicable poem^ conveys a mofral 
lesson^ and the most common observer is capable of 


discovering its jnstneM. If the kind^ order of provi- 
dence has placed the human class in a station differ- 
ing in rank and power^ it has never distinguished any 
one branch of the universal family as destined ta'liye 
without toil. To those whom fortune has been boun- 
tiful, the cultivation of the mind becomes a duty 
as imperious as the manual exertion of the daily la- 
bourer ; the mental knowledge of those who have /et* 
sure to learn, should be given in portions to the igno« 
rant, appropriated to their capacities, and conveyed not 
in the language of vaunting superiority, but with all 
the humility that ever accompanies true wisdom. 

Once more, my little frij&ods^ every tbipg is in your 
power, — embrace the present moment-^ioipress upon 
your fertile minds* that you have a part to act, a cha- 
racter to sustain, and that you will finally be account- 
able for all, and the most trivial of your actions. These 
considerations are of equal moo^nt with the young 
and happy, as with the more advanced in life. You 
can never be top good, for that state into which the 
just shall pass : and as the period for our summons, is 
withheld from mortal sight, oh ! let it be the constant 
practice of your lives to render yourselves acceptable 
to that God ** in whose liands are all the corners of 
the earth.'* 

If I have pointed out an error, which shall speak 
home to any individual bosom, seize the moment of con- 
viction and prove your heart. If, afid I trust Thave been 

so fortunate, if any of you possess those youthful 



Yirtues^ on which I have dwelt with delight^ do not 
fear to apply them^ but be emulous^ stop not here^ 
let each new day, add strength to your good^resolu- 
ttqns that the promises of your youths may in riper 
years lead you nearer to perfection. In this wish you 
may have many dear friends, who are deeply interested^ 
but not any whose sincerity is more worthy of your 
esteem, than, that of 

Arabella Abgus. 
April 90, 1810. 


Published hy W. and T, DarioUj Hollarn HiXL 

Just published, 

a MOHNING,; innend^d to interest and instruct, th«^ Miii^ 
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^ At I are ox renown let othersi dim ; 
I only wish to please the gentile mind» 
Whom Nature's channs inspire, and love of bo« 
maakind*" Bbattib. 

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•r both parts in one, for Is. without Plates. 

*' The Fables of .^sop are hete turned into Verse, for the 
purpose of holding out an inducement to childien to commit 
some^ of tjttem to memory. The language is plain, easy, and 
familiar, as it ought to be; and we approve highly, as well of 
the plan as of the execution^ particularly. of the mode adopted 
of blending the Moral with the Fable itself, instead of leaving 
it as in the original, distinct frQgl the Fable. By this means, 
the Fable cannot be learned witnout the Mora].*' Anti'Jaco^ 
JUview, Ahy, 180?'. / 

** We consider them of the first class, in the department of 
Fable, and this Poem (the Belly and the Limbs) as one of the 
most finished performances of the kind,, since onr favourite 
Gay.** Aurora Morning Pilfer, 


W. and T. DartoB, Printtn, m, Holborn HiU. 




The gift of 
Miss Emma E I. Dunston